#and they were hysterical divas or whatever

[liesmyth]

💀 there's this person in one of my circles who likes another football team than i do (not the problem) but she acts like she's the end all be all of football knowledge and it pisses me off. she just started watching the sport like 6 months ago and will not hear any criticism/learn anything new about anything but her one (1) club. will acknowledge every departure from her club this summer but oddly will not acknowledge the great (black) new signings. her vibes are awful and she needs to respect the new signings asap or i will start throwing hands. also she refuses to watch the women's game for some reason and that pisses me off too like grow up accept gayness into your life, straight woman.

GOD. the fit of betrayal I feel when sports fan in fun online spaces have bad takes I'd expect from normies... I expected better from you!! we all expected better from you!!! if I wanted casual “ew who cares about women's football” I literally can get that from the annoying dudefans at the bar down the road. if I wanted casual racism I'd go on reddit. I think you should obnoxiously share highlight reels of the new guys + women's side every time she's online like some kind of passive aggressive warfare.

[lux-scriptum]

Elliot's Vampire Au

If you guys remember Eternally, this is set in the same universe. I'm just enjoying the silly little world building, and the opportunity to add some angst to Elliot's life.

This was not how Elliot’s day was supposed to go. His outfit was ruined. There was only so much blood would come out of silk. He swiped at it with shaking hands anyway. It wasn’t like there was any washcloths in this bathroom. He had known the guy was, well, a guy, but the only other option was to use the regular towel for trying to scrub out the stains, and Elliot still had to get the blood off himself-

The thought had him looking up on instinct. His own wide-eyed stare looked back. A mess. He was a mess. Red, smeared across his face. Sprayed- no, saturated one of his favorite shirts. It flaked off his hands as he touched one cheek. He’d cried off half his mascara, and smeared the rest.

He flinched at the knock on the doorway. “You’re usually supposed to undress for a shower.”

Elliot forced himself to meet the vampire’s gaze in the mirror. “My shirt-” He began. The whine in his tone was audible even to him. He snapped his mouth shut when a frown crossed the vampire’s face. How far did he want to push the man? “Out,” he tried anyways, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t need an audience.”

The vampire raised his hands in defeat, even as he gave Elliot an indolent look up and down. “No need for any more hysterics, Christ.” He shut the bathroom door behind himself.

Elliot’s shoulders slumped. He turned on the shower. His fingers still trembled as he undid the buttons on his blouse. It had been such a pretty purple too. He almost dropped one of his rings down the drain trying to place them on the counter. Everything else was still in the living room. With- with the body.

The thought pulled him up short. He looked down. More blood on the top half, but plenty right there on his thigh. The bite that should be there was already long gone. Sure, shifters healed faster than humans, but the guy almost took a literal chunk out of Elliot’s leg. And yet, under the dried, flaking blood. Smooth, pale skin. Like it’d never happened.

He needed the blood gone.

By the time Elliot scrubbed himself raw, the vampire was knocking again. If Elliot had known he’d be so needy- but then again, if Elliot had known plenty of other things, he wouldn’t have gone home with him either. Elliot grabbed that singular towel with a grimace. He wrapped it around himself before he bothered to crack the bathroom door.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the guy complained. How had Elliot ever found him attractive? He was just another puffed up douche. Some self proclaimed alpha, or whatever. “I just gave you the gift of immortality.” Ugh and he was still going. “You could be a little grateful.”

Elliot had to bite back a retort about how shifters were already pretty damn close to immortal. He hitched the towel higher. Well. Being a little bratty had already worked once. He popped a lip out in his best pout. “I’m not wearing your clothes,” he sniffed as haughtily as possible. “And you ruined mine.”

“Well what do you want me to do about that, baby?”

Eugh. Elliot had to pull his next huff from the depths of his soul. “Go and get me something,” he demanded. He gave the “artfully” ripped jeans the vampire was wearing a scornful once over. There hadn’t been much time to explore the man’s closet, but the dumb band tee and scuffed up sneakers hadn’t really impressed him. No, it’d been the body under the tee that had lured Elliot home with him. Elliot dragged his attention back to the unremarkable blue eyes and curled his lip. “Not like those.”

“You’re kidding.” When Elliot shook his head, the vampire threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Fine! If I go get you something, will you stop acting like such a diva?”

Elliot bit his lip. Nodded. He kept his wide-eyed stare until the guy had stomped out of the apartment. Only then did Elliot let his knees go weak. His nails dug into the doorway to keep him upright instead. A peek told him the poor dead sucker was still sprawled on the couch where they’d left him.

Honestly, the whole night was a blur. It was supposed to be a quick hookup, and instead-

Elliot tongued the unfamiliar fangs in his mouth. He was used to the heightened sense of smell, but everything was so loud now. The fact that the taste of blood lingered in a tempting way left Elliot off kilter. It scared him, a little, how satisfying it had been to sink those new fangs into the poor guy who was now dead on the couch. He’d never been so ravenous before. It still gnawed at him. Just a little. An ache in his stomach, an itch in his fangs, a pinch on his thigh where the vampire had bit him.

It had been such a good night too, before this mess. He thought he’d lucked out; before he’d turned Elliot he’d actually seemed interested in Elliot’s pleasure. That’d been the whole reason he’d been- well. Elliot knew better now. And he had no plans of being home when the guy came back.

He snatched up his lacy underthings. No blood. Thank God. He pulled them on, and went searching for his jeans. A few splatters, but that was doable. Elliot pulled them on hastily. Jammed his feet in his chunky sandals and pretended he didn’t shudder at the idea of having to put that blouse on. He ended up stealing a hoodie from the guy’s closet. His blouse fit in the big pocket on the front. Good. His rings went in his pocket, and his phone was safely clutched in his hand. He’d never been so relieved that he didn’t have a purse with him in his life. Unlife? Elliot had to press a hand to his chest to feel his heart. No, he was still alive. At least he had that. At least it wouldn’t matter as much if the sun came back up before he could get home.

Elliot eased out of the apartment. Well. The sun was definitely on it’s way. He glanced around. Maybe heading home would not be helpful. Sure he wouldn’t combust, but- well, he’d always burned easily. It might be worse now. He was dialing the phone number before he could think it through.

“Owen? I know it’s early, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

~

@incandescent-creativity @mecharose @cwritesfiction i chatted with y'all about this, but if anyone else wants to be on the tag list lmk!!!

[crimmson-sight]

The poll about whether izzy is a dog or a cat got me thinking that clearly none of ya'll know schnauzers cuz izzy is the most schnauzer-coded character I've ever seen omg

He is short, angry and has salt&peper colored beard and hair, just like a schnauzer. Those little demons fear nothing and are loyal and great workers BUT ALSO they've got separation anxiety and If you leave them alone for too long they'll become aggressive. One thing about them little motherfuckers is they ARE LOUD. They bark all the godamm time. Also while they may be good at following your orders those little rats still think they are in charge, they are entitled and divas. They'll be barking hysterically at other dogs while you walk them and as soon as you get home they'll be asking for pets and cuddles as if they were sweet little angels that did nothing wrong. (And they're right) They only want cuddles and treats from their person and only them. Tell me I'm not describing izzy hands!!!!!!

If you think I'm biased cuz I have 2 schnauzers you're correct I don't care they're cute as hell and I'd go to war for them

LITTERALY SAME ENERGY

"I'll tell my captain that you're declining his offer" or whatever he said in that scene

[pasiveagressive]

Spill Your Gut // Harry Styles

You are a famous actor/model/singer and your manager signs you up to do the one segment you don’t want to. 

I mean no offense to Rihanna or anyone who likes her. I do think that she is extremely talented, but I have no idea what is like as a person, I just needed a famous singer to use.

You hate your manager for signing you up to do this. You had argued with him for two hours after he told you what was going to happen. 

“Will! I told you never to sign me up to do something like this!” you exclaimed he simply rolled his eyes at you,

“I remember what you said, I also remember you saying that you love James and would do anything for him.” You huff 

“I don’t understand how that translates to this…” 

“Really? You don’t understand how playing a game on James’ show translates to doing anything for him?” Will askss with raised eyebrows

“Obviously I understand that, but why does it have to be, ‘Spill your gut or fill your guts’?” Will just gives you a look and you roll your eyes but say “Fine.”. 

Now you were in your dressing room waiting to be called up for the segment. Someone who you assume is an intern knocks on the door. 

“Come in!” you call out.

“Ms. Y/L/N you are on after the commercial break so it's time to head out.” The girl says.

“Thank you so much, would you actually be able to lead me out? I always get lost back here.” you admit, the girl nods 

“Whenever you are ready I will lead you out.”

“Thank you, we can go now.”you smile at her. You never want to have the reputation of a diva or a stuck up bitch so you always are kind to everyone, even someone who might seem insignificant to other people. 

The girl whose name you learn is Sierra, leads you out to the set where there is a table set up with three chairs and nasty looking food around it. You make sure to thank her again and go greet James. You hug him.

“Hello James, thank you for having me.” 

“ ‘ello love, don’t play with me. I know you don’t want to be here.” He replies with a mischievous smile.

“Fine then, I won’t be pleasant for the whole segment.” you smile back

“Oh please, like the Y/N Y/L/N could ever be unpleasant.” James laughs 

“I can too! Just ask Will, he deals in my moodiness all the time.” 

“Alright, alright, lets go sit, Harry should be arriving any second.” You feel your eyes get wide.

“Harry as in…” you trail off

“Harry Styles of course, Will was supposed to tell you.” James says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But William had definitely not told and you know exactly why. He is fully and smuggishly (is that a word? You aren’t sure but who cares)  aware of your gigantic crush on Harry Edward Styles. 

“Oh yeah! He did, I just forgot for a second. Silly me.” is all you say, trying to cover up your shock and slightly spike in anxiety. 

A few minutes later you are sitting at the table of doom with James and Harry. James is looking at the camera. You hear an intern count down,

“5,4,3,2,1.” Then see him point to James.

“ Welcome back everybody! Tonight at my table we have the lovely Y/N Y/L/N, and the ever handsome Harry Styles.” the crowd cheers. “And we are playing Spill your guts or fill your guts!” the intro to the game plays. “Alright on the, what did you call it again Y/N?” James asks

“Oh the Table of Doom.” you smile and try to hide your fright behind some humor.

“Oh that’s right, so on the Table of Doom tonight we have a delicious assortment of goodies. Let’s see, cow tongue, bird salvia,” you kind of gag a little

“Are you alright there love?” Harry asks. You nod your head no,

“Let’s just say whatever is asked to me tonight will be receiving an answer.” James laughs and continues

“We have a water scorpion.” the crowd makes a disgusted noise, 

“Yeah eww.” Harry says 

“Salmon smoothie,” James goes on “Here is some worm spaghetti, pork blood jelly, a bull penis,” that one really gets the crowd going, why you have no idea “there are fish eyes, and finally everybody's favorite a shot of hot sauce.” The crowd claps “Okay so here is how it is going to work Y/N will ask Harry, Harry will ask me, and I will ask the lovely Y/N. None of us have seen these questions correct?” you and Harry both agree, “Okay Y/N, since you are the guest-”

“Hey what am I chopped liver?” Harry cuts him off you giggle

“Well Harold, yes in fact you are.” James sasses “Anyway back to what I was saying, Y/N will answer first, or maybe eat first, who knows?” James spins the table “hmm I will give you the… bird salvia that you seemed so keen on earlier.” You pick up the glass and smell it, causing you to gag again. “Okay, Ms. Y/N, you have been featured on several big named artists albums including but not limited to, Halsey, Niall Horan, Twenty-One Pilots and Ariana Grande.”

“I have.” You agree

“Who would you never want to work with again?” James asks and you suddenly feel very nauseous. 

“Um, well I know who it is right away.”

“You do?” James askes,

“Yeah and well I think I will just say it, Rihanna.” the crowd gasps and cheers. “The woman is insanely talented but she is the biggest diva around.” you grimace James is laughing hysterically and Harry’s jaw is on the floor,

“I can not believe you just said that.” James is able to get out through laughs. 

“Okay Harry I will give you, worm spaghetti.” He inspects it closely. That's when you look at the question and want to laugh “ Harry, you have dated Supermodel Kendall Jenner who just so happens to be one of my best friends, rate the girls in hers/my friend group from best looking too worst.” You see his face get red and eyes go wide “If you need to know who those girls are, it would be me, Kendall, Gigi, Daya, and Dua.” you smile at him.

“Oh wow. You see I could definitely answer, but do I want to seem like an ass or not is the real question.” he rubs his face

“Oh just do it.” James says then the crowd cheers.

“Well of course you want to know.” Harry exclaims and the crowd laughs “Okay from best to worst, Y/N, Kendall, Zendaya, Dua Lipa, and then Gigi Hadid, who I still believe is gorgeous by the way.” He kinds of laughs off the fact that he just said that he thinks you are better looking the Freaking Zendaya Coleman. You feel your face get hot, but luckily it seems as though Harry doesn’t want to dwell on that either and moves on.

“James, James, James what to give you. How about the pork blood jelly.” James picks up his fork and stabs it holding it up, 

“I am not a fan of this consistency.” he says

“Okay James, you have been asked this before and wouldn’t answer, Who has been the worst behaved guest on your show?” James palm faces

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all mate, that's what the card says.” Harry laughs and you join him.

“Well it has actually changed, however I still won’t say.” He picks up the jelly and takes a big bite. You  have to look away. He wipes his mouth, and starts choosing for you. “Hmm, what should I make you eat? I think that Salmon smoothie looks right up your alley, what do you think Styles?” 

“Yep looks good James.” harry nods and you whisper 

“Bastard” under your breath making him laugh. 

“Okay Y/N, you have been on almost every talk show including, Ellen, Kimmel and Fallon. Which of those three did you like being on the least.” You pick up the smoothie glass and inspect it.

“You know James, if I could say yours this wouldn’t even be an issue, but I like all those people so I guess a drink it is.” The crowd cheers when you say this. You take your spoon and scoop yourself out a bite then before you can think too much shove it in your mouth. Immediately you spit it back into the can that is sitting beside you. You wipe your mouth and take a drink. “Okay Harry, you are going to eat cow tongue, how does that sound?” 

“Honestly disgusting.” He replies 

“Good. Harry, your question is why did you turn down the role of Prince Eric in the upcoming-” before you can even finish the question he is biting off a piece of the cow tongue. He swallows it, and sticks his tongue or to prove it. 

“Last Question James and you are going to eat the shot.” James gets a sour look on his face

“That's what you get for making me eat cold salmon.” You stick your tongue out at him like you are five. Harry laughs

“Okay James, who is your least favorite member of one direction?” The crowd oohs and James does his nervous laugh. 

“Um well.” he thinks then picks up the shot glass and throws it back. He looks at the camera,

“Ah, that was Spill your guts or fill your guts and we will be right back!” 

You walk back to the dressing room with Harry. 

“I meant it, you know?”

“Meant what?” you ask

“That you are the most beautiful in your friend group.” he says and you blush.

“Yeah well you're not so bad yourself.” You giggle. You then walk in silence for a few minutes and he speaks up again.

“Would you go on a date with me?” this takes you by surprise,

“What?”

“Will you go on a date with me?” he repeats you feel your face get hot for the thousandth time tonight. And shake your head

“Yes I would love that.”

“Yeah?” He asks

“Yeah” you confirm 

“Well here put your number in and I will message you to work out details.” you take his phone and do as he says. 

“Okay I am looking to hear from you.” you hand him his phone back and kiss his cheek walking away into your dressing room. You close the door behind you. Hmm, you think, maybe playing spill your guts was such a bad idea after all. 

[yoonsshadow]

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it’s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

The ultimate crossover!

Picture it, Jane the Virgin, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, Ugly Betty and Galavant! Two musical dreamedies and telenovela turned successful U.S. dramedies. All with heart, important themes about the greys of life even as they try to think optimistically, self aware humor and amazing character arcs that you just love and root for all of them. Even if they’re sometimes villainous. My friend and I call it Ugly Galavant the Crazy Ex Virgin. Not the most attractive or snappy title but you get the gist of it.

But seriously, I’m not exactly a big cross- over fan in general. But this I would love to see simply for the fruitfulness and hilarity of the character antics that would inevitably happen. Telenovela and musical comedy, it’s a hysterical mix.

Betty Suarez and Jane Villanueva would undoubtedly bond over their dreams of being writers close to their families who were unexpectedly thrown into love triangles, court dramas and other telenovela antics.

Madalena and Wilhelmina would obviously team up with the glory of two divas who revel in their evilness and power that would be terrifying to behold. Even as they can’t always hold to their love life as Wilhelmina once said, “I’m not lonely, I’m horny!”

Daniel, Galavant, Nathanial and Rafael could have a deep talk about their shitty father figures, player ways, and that fit hot guys have problems too.

Valencia and Petra would bond over their former “bad guy“ images and being second best to the heroines of their stories. Plus their bi awakenings. Amanda would probably get into the fun too.

Marc St. James would be such a delightful assistant to Wormwood or even a great foil to Paula, both being the enablers to the less legal deeds of Rebecca and Wilhelmina.

Xo and Hilda would totally understand the trials of being teen moms and trying to get their fledging businesses off the ground. Hey, maybe Xo would even have tips for Justin on his choreography on whatever musical he is bound to get into. Which of course, would be directed by the future songwriter superstar Rebecca Bunch. Though no doubt, no doubt Justin would think Heather the coolest girl ever.

Izzy would have another dude bro to whip into shape with Josh. But more likely she would be a grounding influence to Rebecca who is bettering herself but probably can still get caught up in romance. Izzy is all about breaking romantic norms and focusing on her kingdom and these two girl bosses should just meet.

And there are so many more characters I’m not mentioning but these are just a few of the character interactions. It would be so fraught with these kinds of rapports and interactions that something crazy and interesting would be bound to happen. Not to mention musical numbers! It could be a four parter like those Arrowverse crossovers and it would, again, just be so awesome!

[calypsoff]

Seventy Nine.

I can’t believe my daughter is a month old already, time goes so quick when you are constantly busy trying to make sure she is ok you just lose track of time and things, but I am proud of my baby girl, smiling lightly at her on the hospital bed. She is dress down into her diaper while the nurse is doing all the checks of her, as a father I just want to protect her at all times but sometimes I can’t like now while she is on the bed. She is being so good though, so I am super proud of her just letting the nurse do her thing and not causing a fuss. Taking in a deep breath looking over at Robyn “what you doing? Why are you taking picture of me sneaky, sneaky” looking over at her phone “I just like praising you Chris, you just do so much. You make it to every appointment, you do everything. My house husband” Robyn chuckled nudging me “awww stop it, you’re always praising me when I don’t need praising. I don’t always need the praise, I do it because I love you” looking at the caption “cute” I pointed at the caption she put about me coming to every appointment “you amaze me every time Chris. You showed me that not every man is bad, even though I did think they are because you know. I didn’t know how one should treat you, but you changed that” I grinned “we are going to give Rylee her second dose of HepB” the nurse looked over at us saying, letting out an oh “she about to have a boo boo then” my daughter is just a cutie, I love it “how is she though? She is growing well yeah?” the nurse smiled “you hear me saying anything? She is doing great, healthy as ever” getting up from the chair, I need to support her in this.

Rylee is stumped, she is asleep in the car seat not caring for anything after that injection. She wasn’t best pleased and cried a little, but she was over it “she is a champ Robyn, not going to lie. I can’t believe she didn’t have a tantrum over someone doing that to her, I am super proud” pushing open the door “she is amazing, I can’t believe she didn’t even really cry or care for it” I chuckled “she is not your daughter, I can imagine how much you cried when you had an injection. You’re a diva” Robyn scoffed behind me, I gasped “Mel! Damn, you scared me. You could have said” Mel laughed out just watching me stood here in shock “you’re so annoying” frowning at her “I come to see my niece, how is she” she rushed over, turning the car seat around “she had her shot, she is tired now. She is doing well, I am guessing that is Monica” I said hearing Robyn’ phone ringing out, she said she was going to call to check on what happened at the appointment “it is” Robyn said “let’s go in” I said walking off to the living room “she is so chubby Chris, can I hold her. I know she is asleep, but I want a snuggle” placing the car seat on the couch “do as you please Mel, I do not mind at all” sitting down in a huff “tired then” she said, nodding my head resting my head back.

Watching Mel coo over Rylee, it’s nice to see all the love my daughter gets from the family “she is so spoilt with love” looking over at Mel “how can you not love this face Chris, she is adorable. The fat chunky legs, god!” I chuckled “oh and are you free tonight?” this is my chance, I am sure Mel would “I am, am I the babysitter?” nodding my head “please, just going to take my wife out for some food. Let us have some us time, I think it’s nice to just spend some time together you know? I just want to spoil Robyn, nothing sexual just a meal” I added “you wish” she mumbled, rolling my eyes smiling “time, I got to just wait it out Mel. Patience, I have that with Robyn. I ain’t like them other niggas, you know the ones that just go out of their way to cheat just because their girl had a baby, that ain’t me. I just want to take her out, a little date but can you take care of Rylee for me, she doesn’t know yet so don’t mention it to her” Mel winked at me “I got you, here you are. What is momma Monica saying now?” Robyn made her way into the room “what isn’t she saying, she said facetime my grandbaby, I said she is asleep. She is tired, she has been through a long day. I will later, but you want to see Rylee photoshoot, oh my god. You should see her eye colour, it’s a light brown now and Chris and I was saying that it was hazel at the shoot, oh my god. Imagine if she has hazel” Mel gasped “she is about to be a mini Rihanna” I think my daughter is already a mini Rihanna “so when we did the photoshoot, she woke up and she also peed on the Dennis, he didn’t mind but she got a little excited” I chuckled “it was so funny, he said oh I feel it’s wet. Oh she is peeing on me” I said through my laughter “let me see my niece! Show me now” Mel spat.

I love the photoshoot of Rylee, it’s just the fact she woke up while we were doing the shoot and her eyes, they were so bright, and she seemed so overjoyed. Dennis caught her smile too; I love my daughter “so this was just before she peed on him, she woke up and was awake just looking around. Then Chris held her, as you can see topless. This wasn’t even supposed to be a photo for the shoot, but he was holding her against his chest and she smiled and Dennis caught it” Robyn explained to Mel “I want this! Print it out for me so I can put it up at my apartment, I love it so much. Can I post a little something too when you both post” Mel asked permission, we have been so big on nobody posting anything because it’s something we didn’t want but it’s time, we are posting her at our own time and when we want “why not, auntie Mel can. I have told the family, on my side and Robyn her side that we are. And if they wish too, they can. But yeah, you can” I said “awww thank you, she is literally my whole heart already, but this picture of her smiling and with her awake. Just her face, her bright eyes, the fact they are hazel here. They really are, they not light brown, they are hazel here but just seeing that look. That stare, she is camera ready. This picture I think Robyn should post, and the smiling one you should. It just compliments the tattooed hands but yeah, I think that” Mel is right “cool, I will post that. Like Robyn and I discussed this, what we want for Rylee. And I have no issue with my daughter doing fashion or whatever but if she didn’t want that, then I don’t mind. I think, Robyn thinks I am wrong, but I think people expect her to be Rihanna, and they will” Robyn rolled her eyes “but she is her own person” we already had this “no, he is right actually. People, fans in general. Like Oliver sending these clothes Robyn, matching clothes to be exact, they want you to model them. You wear it, it’s sold out. You and Rylee will be iconic and it’s just that way. It’s being set up like that, Dior and Balmain didn’t send it for nothing” this has really shut Robyn up, she always says I am wrong, and I am not.

I let Robyn post first, I mean of course I would because Robyn name carries so she can go first with it “I wrote out, I would like you all to meet Rylee Fenty-Brown, the joy in our lives. We thank you for all the love shown to us while on this journey. I kept it short and sweet. That is just me, but it’s posted now” taking in a deep breath “that is it now, most liked picture in the world. But I ain’t being biased but we make cute babies, like I ain’t seen no baby with that head of hair. Like you can braid that shit” Mel cackled, I didn’t know she was recording “no I am being serious, like Mel. You can braid that shit how is it normal” Mel is in hysterics “I am cutting that and posting it on my Insta, you funny but right. She has so much of it” rubbing the top of my head “Katy just text me, did you just give birth to yourself?” Robyn cackled “she ain’t wrong” I mumbled, unlocking my phone “I am posting now, just going to put hello world. I am trying to be edgy like Robyn” she side eyed me “we all trying to be like her, but my niece is the most beautiful” licking my top lip as I pressed post “I am just so worried for her at the same time I am excited for her future too, I praise the love she gets but worried about the love she gets. I want to protect my daughter at all costs, you know” taking in a deep breath “I get what you mean, people are crazy for Rihanna. But don’t worry, she got us, we will make sure she is good” nodding my head, Mel is right.

I jolted up, Mel laughed in my face “yo, man. You ain’t shit” I said with my eyes still half closed “nigga is tired, and you were blowing in my face” I am groggy as shit “didn’t you say you would be taking Robyn out? I just thought I would wake you so you can go and tell my girl she is going out” she is right, stretching my body out “man, thank you” I am actually glad she told me to wake up, I need to tell Robyn we are going for a meal “it’s ok, I just want to spend time with my niece. I don’t want the parents here interrupting us now” I chuckled “let me go and tell her” walking off to go upstairs, it’s late actually. I really just knocked out asleep like that, I get little sleep because I want Robyn to get the sleep but like fitting in Rylee, and then jerking myself off in the middle of the night too, it’s a little busy. Last night I didn’t sleep till like three and then Rylee woke up so I didn’t really sleep, then I had the hospital appointment, I really miss sex. I miss Robyn so bad; I miss her body so much. I just want sex, but I am working on trying to be calm about it, I don’t want to seem like a feign but Robyn stopped having sex with me way before giving birth, so I am missing out on sex, I just ain’t having fun at all with my hand. I need to make it an event once we can have sex, I need it to be romantic love making night. No baby making shit, like we good on that end but raw sex, love making, nasty sex too. I growled to myself “what?” Robyn said as she came out of Rylee’ room “oh nothing” I laughed “I needed to catch up with you actually, Mel is babysitting but I want to take you out for a meal, just you and me. Let us spend some us time, without Rylee crying on the side. I want to take you out, you need some fresh air” Robyn looked taken aback “really?” nodding my head “yeah, just get some cute things on. I will be waiting downstairs” she looks so happy about it.

I just wore a shirt, I mean I changed from a tee to a shirt if that helps but I am so sleepy “you seem so tired” Mel pointed out, she is noticing I am just sleepy “it’s hard Mel, like I am trying to make sure Robyn is sleeping as much as she can. She is always awake by like six or seven and she sleeps early so this is actually kind of late for her so I am not sure about it, I thought she may have said no, let’s not go but she hasn’t” I was so sure of it “she wants to go out, when speaking to her she is always saying I can’t wait to go out, I can’t wait to go back to normal. How about I stay over, give you both some time to sleep in? What about it? It’s late already so like you both will come in late and need to the rest, I don’t mind it at all. You know what I am not even asking I am telling. You both have fun out there, ok?” I chuckled; she is just deciding for us now “thank you” I smiled lightly “don’t say that I want too. Oh wow, you look so good!” Mel spat, looking behind me seeing Robyn has dressed up. I am shocked she did but then again she did take time “I feel weird, like I shouldn’t be? I don’t know, I am just missing a bump, there is still a little one there still. I am healing you know” Robyn seems so self-conscious for no reason “you look amazing” she really does “I love when her hair is down” she took in a deep breath “thank you, maybe I am doing the most? It’s just a meal” Mel scoffed “just get out now!” Mel spat; she is amazingly beautiful.

Robyn trying to eat healthy, she makes me laugh. She is trying to be healthy to lose weight, but she needs to calm down with all that “and for you sir” the waiter said “erm” looking back down at the menu “can I have the Wally burger and Truffle Pizzette and the dessert we will order after. Actually, can you bring out a rack of lamb and some soft shell crab. She is paying you see, so you need to go all out. And can you get me for drink, wally’s proper paloma. Thanks” looking up at the waiter, he is laughing “seriously Chris, who is going to eat all that?” I chuckled, the waiter bowed his head and took the menus “I am joking, I am paying but you eating a salad isn’t going to hit the sides, I want you to eat. Your body needs food you damn rabbit, stop this shit ok? I ain’t like what you are doing right now, nurse said six weeks tops, it isn’t even six yet. We a month in, I don’t want to hear it so eat” I scolded Robyn, she poked her lips out not impressed but I bought her out to Wally’s for some food and she is just eating rabbit food, the fuck.

Sipping on my drink “this is nice, I am speaking on you being extra quiet” placing my glass down “well you got mean with me” I chuckled “I just want you to eat, properly too Robyn. You’re breastfeeding and doing all these things; your body has changed yes. I know my wife, I know the person I am with, the person I sleep with every night, and I know your body has changed. Not even in a bad way, it’s more..” I paused trying to catch up with my words because this can get really touchy if I say something stupid “more what?” Robyn said “thick” that is the word “you only need to impress me Robyn, I see you just pulling at your black dress here and there, your body changed so what. If you looked bad I would have said, ok? You are unbelievably beautiful, and I just want to eat you out, so let’s get on twin. Come on, we out here yeah” Robyn smiled, that is what I wanted to see “this is what I want to see twin, I love you so much. You so cute” she just needs the compliments “crazy isn’t it, how much our daughter is loved. I just seen these magazines and blogs posting her like its big major news, it’s crazy. Like that is my daughter, why is she on the news? It makes no sense; I am super proud. I read one comment, and it said I ain’t ever seen a beautiful baby like that. Crazy to me” shaking my head laughing “I try and not look once I post but I feel so protective of her, like if I see anything out of line I am snatching. I didn’t want to post her but also I wanted to control what they see, I miss her already just being here, and she is there. I keep checking my phone but thank you for making me feel good. And thank you for ordering all that extra food” I snorted laughing “I know you Robyn, you just being good” biting my bottom lip “it’s nice that we spend time together, it’s nice that you make sure we do” I grinned wide staring at Robyn, I am so damn in love with this woman and she doesn’t even realise it.

[quercussp]

The Royal Mr. Whiskers

Rating: T

Word count: 2.3k

Summary:

Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

Authors note:

Happy Birthday Zan! This fic is about moving in, roommates and cats, so I hope you like it <3 Have the most lovely day today!

Special thanks to @alittledizzy and @bisexualshoemarriage for the beta work <3

Warnings: light swearing

[read on ao3]

Humans truly are ridiculous. Also very needy. Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

“Listen, it’ll be great! We’ll take the couch with us, you’ll have more space to roam. I promise you, you’re gonna love it!” Phil was explaining to Mr. Whiskers once again, while sorting laundry. Dan was out at work, and Phil was using that time to once again try to persuade Mr. Whiskers that moving would be a good idea. “See? Nothing fits! We just don’t have the space, I keep having to keep my socks in a pile on the floor! ... No, that is not acceptable. … Because clothing needs to be put away or it’ll get dirty again! Look at this, there’s more cat hair in here than there is fabric!” Phil waived a pair of socks in front of Mr. Whiskers face.

Mr. Whiskers has had this argument with Phil at least 20 times by now. When the topic first came up, both of his humans were incredibly excited. They would spend hours looking at their little lit up book, discussing potential new apartments, choosing what furniture would come with them and what they would buy. And they had the audacity to not even ask Mr. Whisker’s permission before making that decision.

Of course, Mr. Whiskers could not let that lie. Phil’s favorite mug had to go (it was thrown off the counter in the middle of the night, just for additional impact), along with Dan’s new shoes (if his human didn’t want him to pee in his shoes, he should have put them away into the closet. Or he could have stopped this silly moving nonsense). But even those desperate measures didn’t seem to help.

Dan, of course, being the thick headed individual that he was, could not put two and two together and insisted that Mr. Whiskers was having a “mid life crisis” and that they should just ignore his antics (and put away all their shoes at night).

Phil, on the other hand, definitely knew what prompted the destruction of his mug (along with the ruined sweater and of course the ‘cactus incident’. Poor Billy did not deserve to die that young, but he ended up collateral damage). So he started a campaign to persuade Mr. Whiskers that it would be a good idea. Well, maybe persuade isn’t the right word, more like bribe him.

The first thing Phil had to do was persuade Dan that they absolutely could not live in a flat on the ground floor. It was a two week argument in which Phil was forced to be very creative, explaining that he needs the exercise of going up the stairs and that he’s scared of a piano falling through the ceiling on top of him (it’s not like he could tell Dan that Mr. Whiskers insisted that he needs a good view of the pigeons outside and that he refuses to stare at people’s feet all day. He was Mr. Whiskers, not some lowlife dog.) Eventually, after multiple arguments, a lot of whining and several “persuading sessions” that Phil carried out in their bedroom, throwing Mr. Whiskers out of the room with whisper “Do you want the view or not?”, Dan gave in.

Next was the room issue. Phil was absolutely adamant that he and Dan need a separate room from Mr. Whiskers, and it was not easy to satisfy either Dan or Mr. Whiskers. Dan kept throwing his hands up in disbelief and shrieking “Why do we need TWO extra rooms?! I get one is a guest room, but what the hell are we going to do with the second bedroom?! Phil, no we do not need a separate room for the cat!.. Ouch! Fuck off, you animal, that hurt!” Sometimes humans just needed to be reminded that stupidity has consequences.

Mr. Whiskers on the other hand demanded that he would get the Master Suite. He might not exactly know what that meant, but if anyone would have the room that’s called the “Master” room, surely it should be Mr. Whiskers.

So that is why Phil was currently on his knees in the bedroom, folding Dan’s underwear and trying to reason with Mr. Whiskers, who was in the middle of his bathing session.

“It’s just called that because it has an en suite bathroom. You don’t even use the bathroom, why would you want that room?”

Mr. Whiskers gave Phil an unimpressed glance and continued licking his tail.

“It’s already hard enough to get Dan to agree to that place with the extra bedroom. If we tell him that he doesn’t even get the big room, there’s no way he’s gonna go for it and we’ll have to start the search all over again!”

Mr. Whiskers went on to carefully licking his toes.

“I know you don’t care if we stay here for another couple months, but we’re going crazy here! And do you remember that there was an actual gas leak last week, right? Please, be reasonable!”

“Hey Phil! Are you having a debate with the cat again?” They both turned their heads to see Dan glancing into the room, cheeks red from walking home. Dan came up to Phil and gave him a peck on the lips and ruffled his hair. “You’re a weird one, Lester.”

He tried to give Mr. Whiskers a scratch behind the ears, but Mr. Whiskers had no time for that nonsense and jumped up on the dresser with a huff.

“Fine, be that way, see if I care,” Dan hissed at him and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Phil shot Mr. Whiskers a pleading look.

“Mr. Whiskers, please, you have to be the bigger person here. Or the bigger cat I guess,” he murmured quietly before following Dan into the kitchen. Mr. Whiskers could hear wet smooching noises and laughter and assumed that the humans were doing their licking thing again. Gross.

***

In the end, a compromise had been reached. After some lengthy debates, Dan agreed that having a separate room could be useful in the future (“In case we want to expand the family some day” Dan said and both of the humans suddenly got very red and giggly, much to Mr. Whisker’s confusion), and Mr. Whiskers finally agreed to take the smaller room for himself, as long as Phil promised that he would get a proper sized bed to sleep on. And not one of those kitty beds, a proper bed. One that he would approve of himself.

And that’s how they end up sitting at the kitchen table, all three of them, shopping for beds on Dan’s computer thing (it didn’t really make sense no matter how many times Phil tried to explain it to Mr. Whiskers, but the humans didn’t need to know that, or they might think that they’re smarter than him). Dan was showing them different pictures, and Mr. Whiskers was gracefully situated in Phil’s lap, who was gently scratching his stomach in an attempt to make the whole process more pleasurable for everybody (himself mostly, of course, as there is no greater pleasure than petting Mr. Whiskers, and Mr. Whiskers was kind enough to allow it.)

“How about this one?” Dan showed a picture of a small wooden bed with drawers at the base. “We can use it as a daybed and store things in there? Maybe fit a table in the room as well, have a little home office?”

“That could work, what do you think Mr. Whiskers?” Phil replied.

“Yes, of course, what does Mr. Whiskers think,” said Dan in a slightly teasing voice.

Mr. Whiskers let his claws out a bit and kneaded at Phil’s lap.

“Ouch ouch ouch, ok, ok! No, Mr. Whiskers doesn’t like it. He wants something bigger.”

“My god, this cat is such a diva!” Dan rolled his eyes but continued looking. He showed them a couple other options but Mr. Whiskers remained unimpressed (“You don’t have to claw me every time, man!” Phil would tell him, “I get it, you don’t like it!”).

Dan continued scrolling until a picture caught Mr. Whiskers’s attention. He stood up from Phil’s lap and let out a loud meow.

“I think Mr. Whiskers likes this one!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to a picture of a gigantic white fluffy bed, with a gold headboard.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding, Phil! Do you see how much it costs? It’s a king size! It won’t even fit in the room!” Dan was starting to get a little hysterical in Mr. Whiskers opinion. And the “king” part sounded pretty good, whatever it meant.

“No, Phil, no this is absolutely not happening!”

***

But of course it did happen. Many weeks and boxes later (who knew that all Phil had to tell Mr. Whiskers to convince him to move was that there would be endless boxes. Of all sizes. All for Mr. Whiskers to enjoy, despite his humans trying to use them for other purposes), they were getting settled in their new place, and Mr. Whiskers had to admit it was pretty nice. There were large windows with a nice wide windowsill for Mr. Whiskers to lounge on while looking outside. The pigeons on the balcony were an endless source of entertainment. They got a lovely new dining table and chairs, one of which Mr. Whiskers of course promptly claimed for himself. Even the couch that they brought with them seemed to be more comfortable, now that it wasn’t totally overflowing with random things.

As for the bed, Mr. Whiskers immediately knew that it was going to be quite acceptable, as soon as Dan and Phil tugged it into the apartment, red and panting from the effort.

“Phil, I hate you for making us get a place on the 4th floor. We are never moving again, you hear me?” Dan whined, plopping himself on the sofa dramatically.

“Yes, dear,” answered Phil breathlessly and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Mr. Whiskers jumped down from his lounging space on top of one of the bookshelves and went to investigate. The bed they brought in was packed in just an absolutely magnificent specimen of a box. It was giant, just the size Mr. Whiskers deserved. He sniffed the box while walking around it. The smell wasn’t great, but that was fixable. He clawed a bit at the cardboard.

“Impatient, are you, you fucker?” Dan asked, still panting.

Mr. Whiskers shot him a dirty look. His human really needed to learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

***

Under Mr. Whiskers’s careful instruction, the bed was assembled in his room and the box from it was left in the corner for him to enjoy later (that did require some scratching to achieve, as Dan was adamant on throwing it out. Once again, the stupidity of humans continued to baffle Mr. Whiskers). Phil put down nice purple sheets and some pillows on it, and Dan moved all the cat toys and Mr. Whiskers’ scratch tower into the room with him.

“I cannot believe we have a seperate room for our cat. We must be crazy,” he said, wiping off his forehead and pulling Phil to his side gently.

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re finally done moving. I can’t wait to live here with you.”

They were looking at each other with that disgusting look in their eyes, and Mr. Whiskers felt the need to remind them of who the real mastermind behind this whole moving thing was by jumping onto the new bed and meowing.

“And with you of course, Mr. Whiskers!” Phil corrected himself.

***

That night Dan and Phil closed themselves in their room pretty early and left Mr. Whiskers to wander the apartment on his own. By now Mr. Whiskers knew that they would keep the door closed for a bit, but then probably Phil would go to get himself some water and Mr. Whiskers could sneak in at that moment. More often than not, Dan was already too tired to kick him out again, and Mr. Whiskers could get some sleep in peace.

His plan worked perfectly of course, and just a couple of hours later Mr. Whiskers quietly tiptoed into the room, just as Phil was closing the door. He waited until they both settled back into bed, softly jumped up and made his way across the covers to the nice warm spot between the two humans.

“You stupid cat, you have to be kidding me!” Dan grumbled half asleep. “Get out! Get out! You have a separate room! With a separate bed! It’s bigger than ours! Go away!”

Mr. Whiskers ignored his rambling and curled up comfortably.

“Phil, tell him to go away,” Dan mumbled, but Mr. Whiskers could hear that he had given up. “Tell him he has his own bed.”

Phil just sighed and pulled Dan closer to him. Just a couple minutes later the two humans were peacefully asleep. Mr. Whiskers curled up a bit tighter and closed his eyes. He swished his tail, gently bumping it into the two bodies around him. He would let Dan sleep a little bit before moving to his preferred sleeping location - Dan’s pillow. It’s not like Dan needed it. No matter how much he liked to pretend to be annoyed at Mr. Whiskers for pushing him off of the pillow, he seemed to prefer Phil’s chest anyway. And Mr. Whiskers was not cruel enough to deny Dan the opportunity to do that. He was generous like that.

[niksixx]

Winter Activities

Requested: Nope! Thought of this on my own💕

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a quiet park just around the corner from the apartment you and Nikki lived in. It was especially beautiful in February when it snowed, and one of your favorite things to do was take pictures of the winter wonderland the park turned into. Nikki never minded when you dragged him along because while you were taking pictures of snow covered trees, he was capturing your beauty on his phone camera.

You were taking a close up picture of a bush when you felt a small thump on your back. Turning around, you stared at Nikki suspiciously, who was hiding his hands behind his back. “What was that?”

Shrugging, Nikki stared at you with a deadpan look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly turned back toward the bush, only to feel that same thump on your jacket. Whizzing around, you took a step toward Nikki, who you noticed was trying not to smile.

“Nikki, what are you up to?”

Grinning, Nikki revealed his hand which held a perfect sculpted snowball. “Snowball fight?” He said, brows raised in delight.

“Nikki, don’t you dar—.”

You tried to run the opposite way but Nikki had grabbed you around the waist with one arm and smashed the snowball in your face. Wiping the water from your face, you glared at your boyfriend who was laughing so hysterically he wasn’t paying attention to the fact that you had gathered your own snowball.

He did notice however when you took a step forward, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“Now wait just a minute, baby,” Nikki said, taking a step back.

Shaking your head, you lunged forward and tackled him in the snow, shoving your snowball down his neck. Nikki let out the girliest scream imaginable, and you both ended up covered in snow, giggling like five year old children.

There was nothing Vince hated more than the frigid weather between December and March. His lips would chap, his nose would run, and he’d always end up with a cold. Luckily, it was nearing the end of March and the weather had drastically changed from thirty and freezing to fifty and warm but it would only stay that way for two days before dropping back down to normal March weather. While Vince was prancing around the house happy and healthy, you were curled up in bed because the quick weather change had triggered your seasonal allergies.

“Viiiince,” you whined, throwing another tissue into the bin beside your bed.

“I’m coming, pretty girl, I promise.” Vince had been so good to you while you were sick, and you knew you had acted like a brat more than once. Being a diva himself, Vince knew exactly how to handle your situation.

The slightest bit of life emerged from your eyes when Vince rounded the corner and came into your room, two steaming mugs held in his hand.

“Tea?” Sticking your tongue out, you shook your head in dismay.

“No, babe, I know you hate tea,” Grinning, Vince handed you a warm mug of hot chocolate, loving the smile it brought to your face. “It won’t exactly make you feel better, but it will definitely make you happier, and I miss my happy girl, so I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get her back.”

The warm chocolate soothed your throat as you sipped cheerfully. Handing you the remote, Vince slid in bed beside you, slurping his own mug.

“Why’d you give me the remote?” You asked, shaking it.

“I told you I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy again, and I know you’ve been dying to get me to watch Titanic with you, so I will suck it up and watch because you’ll be happy and that’s all that matters.” And with a bright smile, you turned on your favorite movie, sipped your hot chocolate, and curled up beside the selfless man you were lucky enough to call your husband.

Your relationship with Tommy was never anything short of fun. Tommy loved surfing the internet, looking for new adventures he knew you’d enjoy. When he suggested ice skating at a small rink in the middle of the city, you thought he was joking. Tommy was one of the most uncoordinated men you had ever met in your life. Surprisingly, the both of you managed to skate around the rink for a half hour without either one of you falling. That is until Tommy suggested something ridiculously stupid.

“Hey, Y/N, baby, wanna see how fast I can skate?” His lips were curled in a smile, tongue poking out the side, and his eyebrows were high on his face.

“Oh my God, Tommy no—.”

You were two seconds too late. Tommy sped off, gliding quickly down the center of the ice rink, doing fine at first until he crashed into a smaller child. Shaking your head, you slowly skated over to where Tommy and the child were sitting in the middle of the ice.

“Sorry little dude,” Tommy said, helping the younger boy to his feet. “Didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay,” he said, brushing off his pants, staring at Tommy with admiration. “You skate pretty fast. Can you teach me?”

Your eyes bugged as you looked at Tommy who was already grinning over at you. “Sure can. come on, we can be a team and race this pretty girl right here,” Tommy pointed to you.

For the rest of the night, you sat with the younger boy’s parents, watching Tommy skate around the rink with the smaller child, occasionally joining in to race them across the rink. The pure joy on Tommy’s face warmed your heart, and in a few years you and Tommy would find yourselves back at the same rink. Only this time, Tommy would be skating with your son.

The cold weather always caused Mick’s bones to ache more than normal. Christmas was around the corner, and Mick knew how much you loved the holidays, and he decided early one morning he was going to surprise you. You came home from work a bit later than you wanted, and you trudged into your apartment, ready for a hot shower.

“Rough day, my love?” Mick asked, lightly kissing your temple.

You nodded and buried your face in the crook of his neck, the feeling of his arms around you very much needed. “You have no idea. I am so ready for a shower, a glass of wine, and some snuggles. ”

Chuckling, Mick held you at arms length. “And you have no idea how much I’d love that, but we have something else to do first.” Before you could react, Mick pulled a silk blindfold out of his pocket and carefully tied it around your head. You laughed the whole way to the car and on the ride to this mysterious destination. Mick hadn’t given any clues, either.

“What is up with you tonight?” You blindly felt around until you touched Mick’s hand, clutching it in your own. “Spontaneity is so unlike you, Mick Mars.”

“Take off your blindfold,” He spoke finally, unable to hid his excitement.

Eagerly, you untied the blindfold and your eyes were met with a thousand bright, colorful Christmas lights.

“Mick, what’s this?” You asked breathlessly. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you sat forward and admired the brightly lit Christmas trees. There were a few other cars in front of yours, with children hanging out the windows and mothers taking pictures.

“I know how much you love Christmas,” Mick said softly, tracing shapes into your palm. “I haven’t been able to take you skating or walk around in the snow because of my back, so I thought it’d be nice to take you to a drive thru Christmas Village to see some lights.”

You immediately pulled Mick in for a kiss, smiling the whole time. Mick was by far the sweetest, kindest soul you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, and three years into your relationship, he still treated you like a queen.

[they-know-not-what]

The Winchester Recital

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part 5

Part Six - Eating

They don’t eat. (Trigger warning for EDNOS/poor self-image/poor self-esteem - please don’t read if you don’t want to)

They don’t eat.

Not like normal people do. Some days there are no worries, they order pizza, they bake cookies, they pick up sandwiches on the way back from lectures.

Other days are different.

It’s not that he doesn’t know that his body needs fuel to function. That’s how he has to think of it sometimes, as fuel, a purely mechanical process. He’s lost count of the amount meals he had chewed and swallowed down without tasting. But he’d been able to do it; whilst hunting. There were set amounts of protein and carbohydrates that he made sure to consume. He rationalised it as keeping his family safe. Sometimes he had blips, but Dad was never around to notice, and Dean seemed to think it was normal behaviour for him.               Sam has always been a health “freak”, as Dean would say. Often forgoing the greasy diner food that was all that they had the money for. John had no time to coddle kids who wouldn’t eat the food in front of them. Dean was not so easy to convince. Weedling Sam with fries until Sam would put away a portion just to make him happy, hustling pool when they were staying in town in order to stack their fridge with “rabbit food” as he put it.

Other times he had been less sympathetic.

               “For god’s sake, Sam! Stop being such a diva and eat the damn burger!” Sam would stubbornly purse his lips shut and push the plate away. “Fine, see if I care!”                Sam was stubborn, but he had learnt that stubbornness from Dean, and the burger would always make it back to the motel room, wrapped up to go by the underpaid waitress.                “You’re being selfish” Dean hissed before jamming his headphones over his head and blasting Metallica from his busted up cassette player, before crossing his arms and shutting his eyes, as if he even couldn’t bear to look at Sam at that moment.                This had been after a particularly stressful day of travelling and arguing between all three of the Winchesters, which John had promptly escaped after dinner by heading off to the nearest bar after tossing Dean the keys. Sam had been in no mood to acquiesce to any requests made of him, and had promptly dropped the wrapped up burger in the bin, making sure that Dean had seen.                Now though, the guilt was compacting in his chest, and he walked back over to the bin and picked it out, glad that in his strop he hadn’t unwrapped it. The burger was cold, which was obviously his fault, and unappetising which was just standard for cheap burgers, but he ate every bite – ignoring the way it made his stomach roll.                Later on, when Dean comes around, he finds the empty burger wrapper on the side table between the two beds with something scribbled on it in black biro.

“Sorry, Dean”

When Sam wakes up on the lumpy sofa, covered in the comforter from Dean’s bed. The smell of the godforsaken burger is too strong. He wrinkles his nose and realises the wrapper is right next to his face.

“Sorry bitch”

Sam smiles and mutters “jerk” to the darkened room.

So yeah, Sam has blips.

Jess is different.

She is a product of a society of which Sam has barely been a part. She’s spent her whole life being told that she has to be pretty, funny, smart. Thin but curvy in the right places, she shouldn’t diet but should somehow maintain a perfect figure, exercise with a face full of un-smudged make up and styled hair. And she does it without a second thought. Sam can’t help but admire her ability to adjust at whatever’s thrown at her. Sometimes he doesn’t understand how she’s so well adjusted.

Sometimes she isn’t.

Jess was meant to meet Sam twenty minutes ago, there was a party going on downstairs that she had been so excited about and so he had reluctantly agreed to go. What the hell, Sam isn’t much of a drinker, but it could be fun.                He doesn’t want to rush her, he figures the hair and the makeup and that cool thing she does with her eyeliner must take time. He also doesn’t want to seem crazy. His hunter instincts are screaming at him that something awful must be happening, but Brandy told him to “chill out, chicks take their time.” Sam makes it another five minutes before he’s leaving the party as quickly as is socially acceptable – and even that gets him a few strange looks. As soon as he’s out of eyeshot he sprints to her room, banging on the door with urgency. Yeah, he doesn’t have a weapon, but he’ll use a lamp of a chair or whatever as long as she’s safe and-

               “Sam?”                “Jess?” he’s in her room as soon as she opens the door, holding her close, looking around for the danger. It takes him a second to realise she’s crying. Well, she was crying. Shock at his arrival and apparent impending insanity has rendered her quiet, but her face is still wet, eyelashes fused together with smeared makeup and tears. “Jess, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s happened?” he holds her at arms’ length and inspects her from head to toe. She uses the distance to break out of his hold, and turns away from him, wiping her face as she does so. It doesn’t have the desired effect, and she seems to only succeed in smearing it worse.                “I’m not going to the party Sam, I don’t feel like it.” Her voice softened “You should go back and have fun. I’m sorry.” She walks away from him and shuts the door behind her, hiding herself in the separate area that houses her bed.

Well done Sam, you had a girlfriend for a whole six months before she realised you were batshit crazy. Good job.

“Jess?” he knocks on the door before opening it, taking the fact that she hadn’t locked it as a good sign. She’s curled up on her bed, hiding her face in her knees. The room, which is normally fairly neat with only a sweater or so on the floor, is so covered in clothes, Sam can barely see the carpet.                “Go away, Sam.” There’s no malice in it, she just sounds small, and tired. He takes a single step into the room and lowers his voice.                “I will, I will go if that’s what you want. But please Jess, tell me what’s wrong with you. How can I help?” She mumbles something into her knees that he can’t catch. “Sorry?” she looks up suddenly, eyes still filled with tears, muscles tensed.                “I said I’m ugly! Sam!”                “Ugly… ? What-?”                “Yes I’m ugly, and hideous and- and – fat!!” she spits the word, and she’s grabbing at her arms and legs now, slightly hysterical pinching every ounce of skin she can get her hands on as if this somehow proves what she’s saying.                “Jess, if there’s one thing I know it’s that none of that is true.” He says gently.

               “Then you clearly don’t know very much!” she rolls over onto her side, turning away from him. He takes a chance, and sits down on the other side of the bed, keeping out of her personal space.

               “Actually, I think you’ll find I’m very smart” he quips and grins cheekily. It’s a grin that just last week she had described as ‘adorable’, now she looks as though she’s considering slapping it off his face. He holds up his hands in placation as she rolls over, but instead of going for him she grabs her own stomach, squeezing again.

               “Then why do I look like this?!” she demands angrily, until after a second, when all the fight seems to go out of her again and she sags into the bed, chest heaving with silent sobs. And Sam feels a momentary rush of anger that to see Jess look so defeated.

She should never look that.

He takes her hands gently, turns them over as if examining them, pecks kisses on each short but carefully painted nail.

               “You look like this, because I’ve seen these hands play the most beautiful piano I’ve ever heard, and make the most amazing cookies I’ve ever tasted.” He strokes up and down her arms, over her shoulders and neck.

Gently, always gentle with Jess.

“I’ve seen you carry fundraising buckets for entire weekends which are always full of change because no-one can say no to you.” His right thumb rests on her lips as his left one caresses her cheek. “I’ve heard this mouth tell the most

wicked

jokes and speak somewhat-passable French.” She taps his arm lightly, in mock annoyance. “You look like this, because at some point a couple of stars must have fallen from the sky to become your eyes. You look like this, because my girlfriend is the most beautiful, funny and talented woman in the world.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “So please don’t make her cry by saying mean things about her, because I love her more than anything in the world. She’s the axis my universe revolves around.”

               “Good answer, Sam Winchester.” She murmurs.

               “I told you I was smart.”

[sodoyouknowbts]

Taehyung x Reader - One Night Stand (Four)

Part of the ‘Married to You’ Series.

Summary: A one night stand with Kim Taehyung turns into something you never would’ve expected.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama, Arranged Marriage

Author: Moxie

Chapters: 01 & 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 (The Finale)

Chapter Four:

It was finally the weekend and you were relaxing at home watching Netflix on the projector screen in the theatre room. Taehyung had installed an incredible sound system and had leather recliner chairs put in. The entire room was soundproof and blacked out so no sunlight could get in. It must’ve cost him a mint but it was definitely worth it in your opinion because it felt just as though you were at the movies.

You were currently engrossed in the latest episode of your drama, a romance about a man and a woman who were childhood sweethearts that were separated, only to meet again as adults 10 years later. They try to carry on and make their love work but fate keeps getting in the way. This week’s episode was an emotional roller-coaster in particular. The couple were facing another challenge and it looked as though this might be the end for them.

“No don’t give up! He loves you!” you cry at the screen. Your hand clutching the tissue box tightly.

You anticipate what might happen next when your phone starts ringing, ruining the moment. You consider letting it ring out until you see that it’s Taehyung calling.

Weird, he never calls.

“Hello?” you sniffle trying to compose yourself. “Taehyung?”

“I left my wallet at home.”

“Oh you did? That’s a shame” your attention is drawn back to the screen and you reply absentmindedly. As the lead female turns to leave the lead male grabs her arm and spins her around dramatically until she falls into his chest. He stares at her with longing and slowly leans in.

This is it!  Finally! You think to yourself.

“Yeah…can you bring it to me?”

Their lips touch and the scene slows down as the background music starts playing.

“Yes!” you cheer, jumping up and down in your seat in excitement. You had been waiting for the two leads to kiss for weeks. However, your moment of joy is fleeting as you quickly remember that you’re still on the phone to Taehyung.

“Wait what did you say?” you ask.

Taehyung lets out a deep sigh before responding “I need my wallet, I left it on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh, yeah okay not a problem” you tell him “Where are you right now?”

“I’ll text you the address, don’t get lost.”

–

You didn’t get lost. In fact, 20 minutes later you found yourself standing outside of Taehyung’s agency. This was the first time you had been there since the two of you got married and you had always wondered what it was like. You were also curious to see Taehyung at work.

Looking around you note that the place was just like you had imagined. The building was incredibly spacious and it almost felt like you were walking into a hotel. The white walls were decorated with expensive looking art pieces as well as portraits of the models and actors in the company. The décor was clean and minimal, favouring white marble and silver hardware. The entire place screamed money.

You stop at a painting that catches your eye. It looked like the painter had taken a black canvas and drawn a bunch of lines in various different colours. The lines were all crossed with each other and the entire thing looked messy but for some reason you couldn’t look away. You don’t realize that you have zoned out until someone calls out your name, pulling you back to reality. You turn around surprised and see Jay approaching you.

“Hey what a surprise to see you here!” Jay exclaims smiling widely. The first time you had met Jay he was wearing a black suit but now he was dressed casually and you immediately note his unique outfit. He was wearing a blue striped dress shirt with bright green sweat pants and red sandals.

“Are you here to see Taehyung?” he asks.

You smile back politely and nod. You’re not completely sure how to act as the last time you had been around Jay you had cried like a baby in front of him. Just thinking about it made you cringe with embarrassment. The media still didn’t know that you were pregnant so he had kept your secret, for now.

“He forgot his wallet so I came to bring it to him” you hold up the wallet and show him.

“Wow you’re such a loving wife. Come on I’ll take you to him.” Jay replies indicating to the nearby elevators with a nod of his head.

You follow behind Jay and as you both wait for the elevator you take this chance to clear the air.

“So listen…about that other night. I’m sorry I cried, that’s not like me at all. I don’t usually cry in front of strangers.”

“Don’t be, it’s understandable given your situation. Hell, I was going to cry for you,” his light-hearted comment makes you chuckle and you can tell he’s trying to make you feel better.

“Thank you. And about what I said, you know about the pregnancy…”

“Don’t worry my lips are sealed. I won’t tell anyone your secret” he zips his lips and throws away the key.

You’re relieved at his words and you feel a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Taehyung hasn’t mentioned anything about making your pregnancy public and you didn’t know what you would do if word got out because of you. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would react.

Would he be angry at you?

Wait a minute you think to yourself. Why do I care if he gets angry? I’m the one that’s pregnant. It’s going to come out sooner or later so why do I need his permission?

“…and he can be such a diva” you catch the end of Jay’s sentence. Wait when did he start talking?

“Sorry, what was that?” you ask.

“V. He’s always so private with his belongings, I’m surprised he let you touch his wallet. Although I guess it makes sense since you’re his wife” Jay replies.

“V?” you repeat the name unsure but then you remember that Jay had called Taehyung that the other night as well. “Do you mean Taehyung?”

“Yep, in high school his nickname was V. I call him that every now and then”

The elevator door opens and you both walk in. Jay presses the button for the fifth floor and the doors close.

“You’ve known him since high school?” you enquire curiously.

“Since we were kids actually! We both moved here from the countryside” he boasts proudly. “I know all about V. Did you know that he used to be really ugly? It’s a miracle that he grew up to become a model”.

“What no way!? I don’t believe you!” you reply back shocked. There was no way Taehyung could’ve been an ugly kid. The man was a walking god. He wasn’t born, he was carved from gold and put down on earth ready to break women’s hearts.

“Believe it! Here I’ll show you a photo.” Jay pulls out his phone and shows you an old photo of two boys, probably around six or seven, sitting in a sand pit. You recognise one of the boys immediately as Jay because he had the same smile. Beside him sat someone you didn’t know. He was wearing overalls and holding a bright red bucket full of sand. His dark hair was messy, sticking up random places and his face was grubby. His mouth was opened wide to show two missing teeth.

“See that boy chubby boy?” he pointed to the boy in overalls and you nod in response. “That’s Taehyung.”

No way! You can’t believe your eyes. There was no way the chubby little boy in this photo could be Kim Taehyung. There was no sign of the world’s top model at all.

“This is a joke, right?” you ask as Jay shakes his head.

“What other photos of Taehyung do you have?” Taehyung didn’t have any childhood photos of himself around the house so you were curious now to see what he was like.

“Oh! Oh! I’ve got the greatest photo to show you!” Jay exclaims excitedly. He bounces up and down on his toes as he scrolls quickly through his phone trying to find the photo. He finally stops scrolling and whatever it is it must be hilarious because he starts to laugh uncontrollably.

“What, what is it?” you query, leaning closer to Jay. He shows you his phone and the moment you see the photo you burst out in laughter. You laugh so hard your side begins to ache.

The photo was of a teenage Taehyung, probably in his early teens around thirteen, posing for the camera. He was wearing black pants with a black leather t-shirt and around his neck was a thick gold chain with a large dollar sign pendent, similar to the ones you see in old rap music videos. To finish off the look he had a white bandana tied around his head. However, it wasn’t the outfit, though hideous as it was, that had you both in a laughing fit. It was the face Taehyung was pulling.

He had his bottom lip between his teeth and his face was tilted back, giving the camera his best seductive face. It was terrible. It was also the greatest thing you had ever seen.

Kim Taehyung was famous for his smouldering and seductive stare that made girls faint. It was dubbed the “drop-your-panties” stare by his fans. You had seen it on a billboard once when he was advertising a cologne and you had almost crashed your car. It was definitely worthy of the name.

However, the Taehyung in his photo was anything but sexy. He looked like an absolute dork. You felt as though you had just won the lottery. This was the perfect blackmail. There was no way in hell Taehyung would let this photo see the light of day. If you had this photo he would never cross you.

“You have to send me this!” you gasp for breath. Your brain was already going through ways in which you could use the photo to torture Taehyung.

“I’ll send it now, what’s your number?” Jay takes down your number and sends he photo true to his words.

You clutch your side and brace yourself against Jay’s arm trying to pull yourself together. You’re both still in hysterics when the elevator door opens and you see a familiar face.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long”

The moment your eyes take in Taehyung you stop laughing. You feel as though all the air had left your lungs. Standing before you wasn’t your husband but the most famous model in the world. Taehyung was dressed in a navy-blue uniform jacket with gold buttons and matching navy-blue pants. The jacket was buttoned all the way to his collar and you wondered if he was wearing anything underneath. His hair was styled in loose waves and his fringe covered most of his eyes.

You couldn’t help but gape at the vision in front of you. If this was a scene in your drama there would be a spotlight on Taehyung and angelic singing. You could practically hear the church choir in your head.

Taehyung’s gaze drops to your hand on Jay’s arm and you immediately pull your hand away and straighten yourself.

“I didn’t ask you to come here and flirt.” Taehyung scoffs noting how close you and Jay were standing.

Your feel the heat rise to your face at his remark. The nerve of this punk!

You can’t believe he just insinuated that you were flirting with Jay. Before you can shoot back a response Jay beats you to it.

“Aww V are you jealous?” he slings an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder’s and squeezes him in an affectionate way. “You know I only have eyes for you.” Jay lays his head on Taehyung’s shoulder and bats his eyelashes playfully.

Taehyung looks at Jay in mock disgust and shrugs him off. He places his hand on Jay’s face and pushes him away replying “Grow up Jay!”.

Jay clutches his cheek and pretends to be hurt. “How could you be so rough with me you evil man?”

You chuckle at their banter. You had never seen Taehyung be playful and so the scene was refreshing.

“Go away. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” Taehyung scolds kicking Jay in the butt.

“Fine, fine I’ll go. Just know that I’ll never forgive you, you heartless man!” Jay cries dramatically before turning and giving you a mischievous wink.  You smile back at his ridiculousness.

Seeing the exchange between you and Jay, Taehyung takes a hold of your hand and pulls you back into the elevator. “Whatever, we’re going now. Bye” he says before hitting the Ground button and closing the doors, not bothering to wait for a reply.

“Hey!” you begin to protest but stop when Taehyung silences you with his stare.

You were going to scold him for being rude but you decide to let the subject drop. Instead you stand in silence with Taehyung as the elevator descends. The soft melody from the speakers filling the space.

You sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His side profile is just as nice as his front you admire. His long earring catches your attention and you’re surprised when you see it because you hadn’t realised that he had his ears pierced. You start to count how many piercings he has.

As if feeling your eyes on him Taehyung glances your way. “What?” he asks catching you off guard.

“Huh? Oh, nothing” you reply back smiling sheepishly at having been caught staring.

You reach the ground floor and you notice that Taehyung is leading you towards the exit so you ask him where you were going.

“I’ve finished work” he replied matter-of-factly as though that explained why you were both walking towards the nearby convenience store.

As if reading your mind again Taehyung adds “I’m hungry, I want some ramen”.

You both enter the store and the old man at the counter welcomes you. You quickly send back a thank you and chase after Taehyung who had already disappeared down an aisle. You find him in the dry food aisle looking at ramen. He picks out 3 packets and turns to leave but stops suddenly and grabs another.

Is this guy seriously going to eat 4 packets of ramen?

You hand him his wallet and as you make your way to the counter to pay, a group of high school girls walk in and the moment they see Taehyung they start to fuss, clutching onto each other in excitement.  You glance at Taehyung to see if he’s noticed his admirers but he appears to be clueless. He hands over the packets of ramen to the old man who begins to process them.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that’s Kim Taehyung. He’s so hot!”

“He’s so tall! Oh my god I can’t breathe”

“Who is that girl with him? She’s so ugly”

“Yeah who does she think she is? That’s our Taehyung”

Even though they were whispering you could clearly hear what they were saying. You glance at Taehyung again to see if he could hear but his attention is still on the old man. Most likely not.

You try not to take notice of what they were saying because they didn’t know you and you could understand that Taehyung was their idol and they felt possessive of him, however it was hard not to take their words to heart. It was like you were back in the toilet listening to those ladies gossiping. You weren’t an idiot. You knew that marrying Taehyung would open the door for people to ridicule and talk about you and at the time you thought you could handle it and brush it off, but hearing people criticise you in person is a lot different from imagining it.

“Why would she wear that? It’s so ugly”

“Taehyung oppa should be with someone prettier”

Every one of their comments felt like a knife to you heart and you felt all of your insecurities rise to the surface. Don’t listen to them, they don’t know you. You bit the inside of your lip as you try to fight back the tears.

“He looked so much better with Anna”

There was that name again. Anna.

“Yeah they were perfect together. Anna is so much prettier”

I know she is.

“And taller”

I know she is.

“Anna deserves to be with our Taehyung. Not this cow”

Please stop!

You close your ears and pray for them to stop. You don’t know how much more you can take before your tears threaten to spill.

You suddenly feel someone take your hand and when you open your eyes you see that Taehyung has your hand in his, your fingers interlocked. You glance up at him and find that his attention hasn’t shifted. Earlier you had thought that he couldn’t hear the girls but it was clear now that he could. He had heard everything and this was his way of comforting you.

You feel that same little flutter in your stomach and you can no longer hear what the girls are saying.

Your hand looks small compared to his and you notice that his hand feels surprisingly rough. You can feel the spots where he had callouses from lifting weights. Most women would find rough hands a deterrent but you find yourself not minding it. You like the way your hand feels in his. You couldn’t remember the last time you held hands with a man and this felt nice. Safe.

Most of the time Taehyung acted cold and aloof and you assumed that he didn’t care about anything but maybe you were wrong?

Thanking the old man, Taehyung take the bag and turns to you, his expression is soft.

“Come on, let’s go home”

That’s all you need to hear before you nod.

He squeezes your hand as you walk past the group of teenagers who have summoned up the courage to talk to him.

“Taehyung, could we please get a photo with you? We’re really big fans” one of them asks, smiling sweetly.

She’s the one that called you ugly.

“No, sorry. I’m busy with my wife. Also, I don’t need fans who say unkind things” his replies coolly and brushes past them.

His response shuts them down completely and when you turn back to look at them their faces are a mask of shock and disbelief. You feel a little bit bad for them but the feeling is short lived.

One you hit the sidewalk Taehyung leads you back to the front of the agency where his car is parked. You continue to walk in a comfortable silence, your hand still intertwined with his. Perfectly content.

What is this feeling? Why is my heart beating so fast?

--

To be continued.

[mycandyloveandeldarya]

Eldarya - Episode 8 Guide

Maana spend: 1500-2000 Illustrations: 4

NOTE! When I write that a character can be found at a certain location this is not always accurate so keep that in mind!

NOTE! Which boy you play this episode with is determined by the Crush option! So make sure to put the crush on your favorite boy or else the game will choose randomly

1: Go to Miiko

Go to Crystal Room

2: Get a check up

Go to Infirmary

Ewelein

Emotionally speaking, how are you?

Well, now that you mention it… I feel very miserable (/) 

I’m doing just fine, I promise! (-5) 

… (I don’t know if I can confide in her) (+5)

Elliot, the little Kappa you hurt last time?

Yes, that’s him. Is that important information? (/)

He hurt himself falling! (-5) 

I didn’t physically hurt him… (/) 

It’s quite unlikely…. Seeing what happened to you. I swear on my life that you do not have any mermaid origins

I’m a bit disappointed… Even after all that, I liked being a mermaid (+5)

Thank goodness, I really didn’t like being a mermaid (/) 

If I’m not a mermaid, maybe I’m an elf like you? (-5) 

3:  Find Kero and Ykhar to give your report

Meet Nevra (Guard Corridor)

Nevra

My reputation took a hit because of you

Oh poor thing… (/) (Dialogue 2) 

I… I’m sorry… (/) 

Karma! (-5) 

Dialogue 2

It’s true, they are all mean…

Do you want a hug? (+5) 

Come off it! (-5)

I feel sorry for you… (/) 

Meet Ezarel (simple corridor)

Ezarel

I’m sure of it!

You really are just a big kid (/) 

I mean, who knows? Maybe I would have believed you (/) 

You must be so frustrated right now (/) 

Meet Chrome (Library). Meet Valkyon (Cherry Tree)

Valkyon

…It’s not easy to talk to you (-5) 

…It’s hard for me to talk to you (/) 

…I don’t really know how to express myself (/) 

I’m not a very interesting person

Well, I think you are (+5) 

That’s for me to judge (/)

That’s true, but I could always be wrong (-5) 

Meet Leiftan (Market Square)

Leiftan

Are you dreading it?

A little yes… (/) 

No, not really… (+5) 

I don’t really know what to think. (-5) 

You may meet Mery (burrow)

Mery

That’s right, you’re a big boy (/)

No Mery, you are still a child (-5)

(Hmm... Children, what a wound) (/)

Find Ykhar and Kero (Refuge of El)

Kero

Alright, Ykhar, Guardienne, it’s not like anyone died or anything

Yes, but I lost so much time because of her (-5 with Kero and -15 Ykhar)  

Yes, I lost time, but I’m not going to have a cow (/) 

Yes, well now you’ll know for next time (+5 with Ykhar)

Do mission report. It will affect LOM with Chrome

(+15) with Chrome: 1A 2A 3C 4B 5B 6A

(+5) with Chrome: 1C 2B 3A 4A 5C 6A

(/) with Chrome: 1A 2B 3A 4C 5B 6B

(-5) with Chrome: 1B 2C 3C 4A 5A 6C

4: Go to Dining Hall

Go to Dining Hall

Ykhar

That’s all you do!

Hey! That’s not true! (+10)

Whatever! (/) 

At the same time, when you’re welcomed by a hysterical person who throws you into a prison… (/) 

5: Go back to your room

Go to Your Room

6: Give back Ykhar’s book

Go to Library

Ykhar

What did you think?

Well, I loved it! (+10) 

I’m not really a fan of that kind of novel… (/) (Dialogue 2) 

I hated it (-5) 

Dialogue 2

What other “genres” do you like?

Historical Fiction (/)

Detective novels. (+5) 

Love stories… (/) 

7: Go back to see the brownie again

Go to Library

8: Ask Miiko’s permission to go on the mission

Go to Crystal Room

9: Go to the beach to leave the Kappa’s message

Go to Market Square

Nevra

You should have come to mine, we’d have found ways to keep busy…

Nevra… You promised me you’d quit it with that kind of comment (/) 

And we’d have done what? Play cards, perhaps? (/) 

How many girls have there been before me? (+5)

There’s a possibility that might be it…

Awesome, now you’ll finally leave me alone! (-5) 

Wh… What? Really? (+5)

What’s her name? (/) 

Judging by the weather, I don’t understand why you wore that.

Oh, out of habit I guess! (/) 

It went with the rest of my outfit… (+5)  

Why did you wear that scarf? (/) 

Ezarel

Yes. I think you could trust me more (-5)

No, of course not... (/)

Why not after all? (+5)

And

We will remain in complete silence until we reach our destination (/) (Dialogue 2)

I who hoped that you would entertain me... (-5)

You really do not make any effort! (/)

Dialogue 2

I feel it rather serious (/)

I feel it rather thin (-5)

I see her... I did not say anything. She is nasal (+5)

And

Yes that’s what I planned to do (/)

I prefer to keep it, I do not want to catch a cold snap (+5)

I hesitate... (/)

Valkyon

Really?

She told me I wasn’t in good enough shape for it (/)

I don’t think she trusts me enough to give it to me (-5)

She gave me a different mission… (+5)

Not at all. Mine were pretty “insignificant” too

That’s surprising (+5)

That’s stupid (-5)

That’s a shame (/) 

I like being hot

You like the heat? (+5)

I prefer the cold… (/) 

Me too, but in moderation! (-5)

Go to Isolated Beach

10: Now that the message is in the water, go look for Kero

Go back to Hall of Doors

11: When you finish giving your report, find Nevra/Ezarel/Valkyon in the Dining Hall

Go to Library

The right option to click on the screen is the quiver in the middle

Choice

(Talk about fear of water) (/)

(Do not talk about fear of water) (/)

12: Go to the Pantry

Go to Pantry

13: Find all of the ingredients in the Pantry, then go to the kitchen to make something to eat

Find potatoes (click on the screen on the sack on the bottom left)

Find mince (click on the screen on the hive-looking display on the middle left)

14: Go back to the dining hall

Go to Dining Hall

Find condiments (click on the screen on the table on the bottom left)

Go to Kitchen

Nevra

I think I’d go for “uptight”

Yeah, well you guys are gonna have to learn to let go a little (+5)

Yeah, well it’s starting to bug me! (-5)

Yeah, well I’ll admit I’m uptight too (/) 

And

Rare? (-5) 

Well done? (/)

Blue? (+5)

Ezarel

Yeah well we’ll have to think about relaxing a bit (-5)

Yeah, well, it's getting heavy! (/)

Yeah, well I'll admit that I too am "tense" (+5)

And

I'll make you a real pasta dish next time (/)

You do not deserve me to cook for you (/)

You despair me ... (/)

Valkyon

Many of our members are on edge because of our situation

Yeah, it would be nice to be less nervy (/) 

Yeah, and I guess it’s gonna start to get on my nerves (+5)

Yeah, I’m annoyed too and I don’t play the diva every second (-5)

He makes this soup of dried meat and succulent groat

I can’t wait to try it, since you say it’s so good (+5)

I’m not really sure I want to try this soup…  (/)

I’ve never had any groat… (/) 

15: Bring a piece of the dish to Karuto and the others…

Find Karuto (Kitchen), find Jamon (Pantry), find Miiko (Crystal Room)

16: Take some time for yourself and go walk around the gardens

Meet the two boys who you didn’t share the meal with. It is possible you have already had these conversations earlier in the day

Meet Valkyon (Cherry Tree), Meet Ezarel (Garden of Music), Meet Nevra (Alley Arches)

Ezarel

What’s it like then?

I think it’s pretty deep (/) 

I think it’s pretty high (-5) 

I think it’s… I take it back. It’s nasal (+5) 

Valkyon

Not at all. They were “insignificant” too

That’s surprising (+5) 

That’s stupid (-5) 

That’s a shame (/)

Nevra

Awesome, now you’ll finally leave me alone! (-5)  

Wh… What? Really? (+5) (Dialogue 2) 

What’s her name? (/) 

Dialogue 2

You’re not bad looking (/)

Maybe…  (+5)

Go to Central Pavillion

17: Go see Miiko to explain about Chrome

Go to Crystal Room

Miiko

I don’t have time for this, excuse me

(I stamped my foot and raised my voice to make her listen to me) (+5) 

Miiko, please listen to me! (/) 

Leiftan… (I hope he can make her listen to reason) (-5) 

18: Find yellow grains

Go to Pantry

Click on the screen on the bottom shelf in the middle right

Choice

(Make salted popcorn) (+10 with Miiko)

(Make sugary popcorn) (/)

(Make caramel popcorn) (/)

19: Prepare the seasoning, then make the pop-corn

Go to Dining Hall

Click on the screen on condiments (on the same table as last time)

20: Bring the pop-corn to Miiko and… Fingers crossed!

Go to Crystal Room

Miiko

He’s already had several

Not enough (+5) 

He’s young…  (-5) 

Please (/) 

21: Go back to your room now that you don’t have anything to do

Choice

(Leave without delay) (/)

(Prepare to leave) (/) Towards illustration with Masked Man

22: Find the Masked Man

Go to Cherry Tree

Masked Man

… (/) Towards illustration with Masked Man

Why did you lure me here? (/)

And

Don’t touch me! [V]

What are you doing…? Illustration with Masked Man

23: Even if it’s late, go to the Hall of the Guards to talk to Miiko

Go to Hall of Guards

24: Go to the Crystal Room

Go to Crystal Room

Miiko

(Jump straight into it) (/) 

(Hesitate a little) (/) 

And

(I’m about to explode with anger. Seriously, I’ve had enough of this. That’s it, I’m not welcome here, so I’m leaving) (/) 

(I’m about to explode with anger…but I should stay calm. Running away would solve nothing) (/) 

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Thirty-Five: Reyna

Why I Hate Piccolo Players

 Warning: Graphic depictions of violence. A horrific lack of weasels.

Author’s Note: This chapter, and the next chapter, didn’t exist in my original timeline/draft and were entirely the fault of my discovering Overwerk’s Toccoto and Canon around Halloween. Plus, one of the overtly dramatic gods demanded he get more page time, else he’d sue for misrepresentation and slander. *sigh* Gods can be such divas…

           Reyna didn’t have the energy or time to deal with the arrival of the Paxmobile.

           She’d calculated it in as a likely factor, but she’d been ignoring the possibility since the bouts started, and another should start soon.    

           When Thalia and another huntress, Christiana, ran into her tent to report the presence of a gold donkey and van along Farm Road, Reyna cursed. Reinforcements had arrived, but she didn’t know to whom they belonged or if they’d do any good if they were hers.

           And they didn’t have time to find out.

           Clovis would need her by the strawberry fields any minute. [1]

           “Axel and Kally are their parley party, but there are others with them. They have a peace flag,” Thalia informed Reyna. “No Percy, Annabeth, or the others. No Nico or Hazel.” The last part sounded grim.

Christiana walked off with little more than a hand gesture from Thalia. Her silver jacket flickered in the moonlight as she exited to continue patrolling.

Reyna’s stomach lurched at hearing Axel’s name.  She tightened her grip around her knife’s hilt. She jerked the blade out of the make-shift war table and stepped out of the tent.

No Nico or Hazel.

She thought about the way her hand had passed through Nico this past summer, like he was made of shadows, and what Calex said about the child of Hades tonight. During his rushed explanation, Calex had admitted the information he gave about Nico was vague and from a hysterical Pax—“someone dodgy at the best of times.” Maybe it was wrong.

Or maybe Nico was gone forever.

Reyna tried not to let her legs shake.

“Thalia, I need someone on standby to give me a signal the instant Clovis steps into sight,” she said.

The lieutenant of Artemis nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Without pause, Thalia stepped back past the tent, towards the flood lights that the Romans had set up around the perimeter of Camp Half-Blood.

As Reyna walked towards the crest of the hill, Michael Kahale and Calex Rupin McKenzie came over, mid-argument.

“—here to help!” Calex snapped.

Michael held up a hand to silence the son of Eros when they intercepted Reyna.

“Reyna, the timing is tight. Do you want me to take care of this?” Michael asked, his eyes darting to follow Thalia’s departure.

She shook her head, but was happy for his presence. She was too worn down to do this on her own. If Frank, or Nico, or any of the others had come back, she would have felt better, and it wasn’t just because they could summon zombies or turn into grizzly bears.

“Is the unicorn droaght ready?” she asked.

She knew how futile the next fight would be. They’d only won a single bout this night, and Clovis was getting weaker and more despairing. But she had to try.

Michael nodded. From the way he sighed, she could tell he didn’t agree with her decision to talk to the peace party, but would never contradict a high officer.

However, Calex did not share his hesitation. He stepped alongside them.

They could see a few figures approaching from the road when Michael snapped, “Calex, you’re not supposed to be here for this.” Under normal protocol, Reyna would agree. Calex was too likely a candidate for a spy and traitor for Axel’s group.

“Likes Hades I’m leaving,” Calex hissed.

Reyna tensed. Everyone was discouraged and frustrated. She didn’t want to see a fight break out between these two. Calex looked like a Greek statue and was probably in the same weight class as one. Michael Kahale was one of the few people who could probably put Calex down, but, fortunately, he seemed to have a soft spot for his nephew on the godly side.

“You can stay, but not a word until I say so,” Reyna snapped.

Calex glanced at her with a look that said, remember, I can make you fall in love with someone stupid. Even the likes of Apollo.[2]

Michael sighed again in defeat. His shoulders sagged as they took a stand, waiting for the parley party to come to them; Reyna wanted to make sure they were within range of the huntress’ bows if the peace flag was a trick.

When she saw them come into her floodlights, she tightened her hold on her dagger. Quickly, she sheathed it, not realizing she’d kept it drawn.

Last time Reyna had seen Axel, he’d gone from nervously sliding an arm around her on the couch and naming her ninja zombie rabbits after famous fighters to setting the couch on fire and threatening to eat the hearts of her soldiers.

Now, he looked more like the monster he’d espoused.

The Nemean lion pelt swayed off his shoulders. In the dim lighting, she was disgusted to see the glint of two Roman praetor medals on the paws tied about his throat: one, she guessed, for former praetor Megara—missing in action--one for former Praetor Julian—slain on the battlefield. He wore the traditional Roman pteruges, leather skirts, overtop his pants and odd bracers—likely Mayan style.

A feline helmet was tucked under one of his arms: the Leonis Caput helm.

Reyna struggled not to signal open fire to the hiding huntresses, Lesedi and Christiana.

She felt so stupid for not seeing it before. Since the Pax brothers had escaped through the labyrinth entrance in her room, Reyna had mentally gone over each battle against the Leonis Caput during the Second Titan war. She should have recognized his fighting style, picked up on more hints, and pieced together who he was.[3]

The smaller daughter of Apollo, Kally, stepped forward with him. She held the peace flag, face drawn with more determination than Reyna had ever seen on the normally timid girl.

Neither looked armed, but Reyna knew that meant nothing with Axel. With his fangs and claws, he was always armed.

They stopped six feet away, enough distance to prevent a close range stealth attack. Axel must have had his Mist mask up; Reyna couldn’t see if his jaguar ears were tucked.

Before she or Michael could stop him, Calex broke forward. For a second, she thought he was going to attack them. Axel braced in anticipation like he expected the same.

But Calex tackled Kally into a hug and clapped his hand onto Axel’s shoulder. Kally dropped the peace flag, shattering her sturdy demeanor with a squeak. Axel relaxed.

Reyna could feel Michael Kahale roll his eyes.

“You twats,” Calex hissed, “You didn’t off anyone, did you?”

Axel’s expression was grim. Kally’s lip trembled. “We didn’t,” she said quietly.

           Calex’s face fell.

           Axel cleared his throat and stepped forward, away from Calex. Whatever clever shirt he had been wearing was shredded, like he’d been hit by a fire hose full blast for twenty minutes. His dark eyes met evenly with hers when he greeted, “Praetor.”

           “Leonis Caput,” she returned.

           She wanted him to puff up his cheeks, or frown, or show some loss of composure.

           Instead, Axel gazed past her, assessing the situation: how the Romans’ barracks were outside the camp’s borders, that there were floodlights pointed inside, that the only people running around were Roman. No Greeks.

           There was a pause that she didn’t have the time for.

           His eyes widened. “The Mist barrier… it’s almost gone.”

           Michael Kahale grunted.

           Although Axel could have been faking it, Reyna was relieved by his seemingly genuine surprise. Maybe he hadn’t come because he knew the camp was weak.

           Kally blinked, glancing over to Axel. “How—”

           “The Athena Parthenos’ eyes are closed. And Thalia’s tree is in dormancy. Even Peleus is unconscious,” Reyna said.[4] She didn’t want to give potential enemies unnecessary information, but Calex would tell them anyway, and she needed to speed this along.

           Kally and Axel shared a look of bewilderment at what could knock out a dragon, the same confusion her troops had when they first arrived.

           “Dionysus—” Kally started to ask.

           “Is out due to some petty spat Zeus dragged him into,” Calex answered, sounding annoyed.

           “Eris,” Axel growled.

           If Axel and Kally had known about any of that information, they were doing an excellent job pretending they didn’t. Reyna dug her nails into the hilt of her dagger. She needed to know their intentions now.

           “I’m not going to dance around this issue,” she said. “Are you here to help us or do I need to kill you?”

           “Kally, Pax, Euna, and I are here to help,” Axel said.

           Reyna wasn’t sure what she would have preferred: that he be the monster he was supposed to be, or that he offer his help when she knew he couldn’t do anything. None of them could do anything.

           They needed a child of the Underworld or something close.

           “Is Hazel or Nico coming?” she asked.

            Kally swallowed, raising her chin. “From what Pax said, the goddess Melinoe kidnapped him when he was turning into shadows. And… Hazel—”

           “Should have reformed from the shadow realm by now,” someone spoke behind her.

           Kally tensed. Her fingers tightened along the peace flag.

           Three figures approached behind Axel and Kally. One, Reyna readily recognized as Euna Song, the girl currently under scrutiny for the massacre of several mortals. Another—Axel’s little brother, Pax—was tugging furiously at a taller one’s arm to slow him down. The taller one wore a bulletproof vest, strange pants covered in runes, and—

           Upon seeing the helm in his hand and the forked staff in the other, Reyna felt her jaw drop. “The Cloven Terror?” she asked.

           Michael Kahale clamped a hand over his sword.

           “You brought the Cloven Terror to protect the camp? Is this a joke?” she demanded, scowling at Axel. She switched from holding her dagger to grabbing her sword hilt.

           “And the Plague Bringer!” a cheerful voice came from Pax’s belt. “But I assure you, Al and I have no intention of protec—”

           Pax slammed a hand down to the head dangling off his utility belt.

           Reyna felt like she was going to be sick.

           “Yea, it’s a gross and long story that we don’t really get either, but I’m sure Axel can tell you later to set the mood, since nothing sets the mood like severed heads and Goth boys going poof,” Pax said. He turned to Kally. “Not that I think that sets the mood. I’m a flowers and sweets kinda guy. Axel and Reyna are just—”

           A flare exploded overhead.

           “That’s Thalia’s signal,” Michael Kahale said. “We need to move.”

           Reyna hoped she hadn’t arrived too late.

           When she raced up to the edge of the strawberry fields, she couldn’t see Clovis or any monsters. Just the caution tape they’d set up along the perimeter of Camp Half-Blood’s borders.

None of this was ideal. They already couldn’t do much, and having the full Triple A Chimera here would demoralize her troops further.

           They didn’t have the time to properly restrain the Cloven Terror either. If he turned on them—

           Reyna skidded to a stop at the edge of the caution tape. Axel would have lunged over it had she not shoved an arm out in front of him.

           He paused, glancing at her. Part of her wished she’d let him jump, but he was too useful an asset if he truly was fighting on their side.

           She pointed to a body, facedown, three feet beyond the caution tape. One of her own new recruits, in full battle armor: Ellie Atmadja.

           “If you cross into Camp Half-Blood’s territory, you fall asleep,” she warned. Reyna wondered how long it would take Axel to notice what else was wrong with the image, other than the trampled strawberry fields and gashes in the trees near the field.

           Axel sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing to the other side of the field, closer to the Big House, almost outside of the flood light’s range. Where there was a small pile of bodies wearing a variety of Camp Half-Blood sleepwear. An area that wafted metallic in the breeze.  

           The ominous notes of a rapid piccolo solo came from the darkness beyond the floodlights.[5] The rhythmic rustling of footfalls followed, along with a continuous crunch that Reyna guessed was a body being dragged, like the others had been.

           A pale figured lumbered towards them. Michael Kahale was the first to start up the shouts.

           “Come on, Clovis!” he cheered, trying to hide his worry.

           “You’re almost at the border!” Reyna recognized Thalia’s voice from somewhere further along the perimeter. All her troops that weren’t staked out to ward off approaching monsters gathered near the caution tape to shout their support.

           Reyna didn’t know how to tell them, but their shouts made it so much worse for Clovis. All their encouragement made him feel like he was letting them down with each bout he lost.

           He stumbled towards them. Now, Reyna could see which sleeping camper he dragged behind him: a brunette girl that Reyna was pretty sure was the counselor of the Demeter cabin.

           Clovis looked exhausted. Reyna remembered Jason once describing the son of Hypnos as bovine. He had a gentle face, thick figure, and arms too small for his body, ones unused to frantically dragging campers across the whole camp.

           His blond hair was streaked with blood and dirt. One of his spindly arms dangled uselessly at his side. He wore white PJs, now dirtied to a tan. Even at this distance, Reyna could hear his huffed breath that bordered on a sob.

           She knew how tired he was. She’d felt his pain, his fear, his frustration, and shame. He couldn’t keep doing this much longer.

           The sound of a wind instrument increased in volume. A second figure marched forward two dozen feet behind him. As though to drown out the encroaching danger and their inability to help, Reyna’s troops cheered louder.

           Reyna wondered what kind of monster would come out this time. Last time was something large and terrifying that tore up the grounds.

           Now, a tall, lengthy humanoid figure approached. Its head was that of a giant kiwi bird skull, like someone had fused a plague doctor mask into their face. The bone-face donned a Renaissance-style lord’s cap, and the creature wore a multicolored jester costume. It pranced forward, tooting a sinister tune on its piccolo. Along its neck, even at this distance, she could see the hideous glare of a purple and orange polka dotted bowtie.

           “Holy Titans. I think I actually preferred him with his boaring pig attire,” Pax muttered over the empty cheers.

           “Clovis is by himself,” Kally whispered, “Against a god? What is Phobetor doing in camp. And none of us can go in?”

           “That’s why we were on about Nico or Hazel,” Calex told her, in a hushed, quick voice, “We think Lou Ellen is in there, helping Clovis when she can. Phobetor claims he’s close to locking in on her location. But—unless someone has lots of experience being close to Erebus, the dream world, or a lot of experience controlling their sleep—they can’t go inside without falling unconscious. And Phobetor will start killing campers indiscriminately if someone outside tries to fire in.”

           “There’s no way to help unless we have a way in there,” Axel realized, his tone grave.

           But Reyna could do something to help. Even if it was temporary.

           Clovis was about half-way through the strawberry field by now. She knelt down, focusing on him as he lumbered forward with Miranda Gardner. His desperate eyes darted to hers. Now that he was closer, he could see the clean lines the tears streaked down his cheeks.

           Phobetor lowered the piccolo from his mask and Clovis released a despairing sob.

           Reyna’s tattoo burned along her forearm. Although she couldn’t use her powers as effectively from a distance or as effectively on a single person, she reached out, feeling the familiar hopelessness, exhaustion, and pain. All Clovis wanted to do was sleep. But, Phobetor had made it clear to him—if Clovis dared sleep, Phobetor killed campers. Since Phobetor couldn’t get to another child of Hypnos in his dreams, the god brought Clovis’ nightmare into the real world.

           What Reyna wanted to know was why Phobetor wanted to kill campers and why he had chosen this method.

           Reyna willed Clovis some of her determination and strength.

           Clovis’ shuffling increased in speed. His eyes brightened. For a split second, she could see his gaze soften with gratitude. He was closing in on the border and bringing Miranda Gardner to safety.

           Then, Phobetor spoke, his voice booming over the cheers of her troops. Despite her resolve, Reyna found herself shaking in the presence of a god. “Ah, we have more of an audience now, Clovis. Look, our little nephew has come to join us.” He tilted his hat towards Reyna and—she realized from the sound of his cheek pop—Pax. “Shall I start the timer for the next bout? Horror movies these days. Never know the proper element of timing.”

           Phobetor pinched his piccolo between two abnormally long fingers so he could adjust his bowtie. He released it, and gave a quick puff on his instrument.

           Behind him, someone else trudged forward.

           Reyna tried not to tremble more. She didn’t need this god to have reinforcements. She hoped it was Lou Ellen, with another trick—the daughter of Hecate had managed to stay awake inside the border, and had been tripping up Phobetor and causing little stunts to buy Clovis time. But Reyna doubted they’d be that fortunate.

           The person approaching was a muscular boy with Asiatic features and a deep tan. He wore a baggy Camp Half-Blood shirt, a hoplite sword, and boxers, probably PJs. With much more ease than Clovis, he carried three campers, one on each shoulder, and another along the ground. He dumped them beside Phobetor, then stood there, swaying.

           Although Reyna couldn’t be sure, she thought that one of the dropped campers was a Stoll brother. The other was a stocky blond haired boy.

           “Matthias,” Pax muttered.

           The last one was a mumbling Lou Ellen. The head of Hecate had a hand to her head, and Reyna could tell she must have been walloped.

           “It appears that Sherman Yang, a young sprite of Ares, has a sleep walking problem.” Phobetor gestured to the camper standing beside him, using his piccolo like a ringleader would a crop. “He is having a very confusing nightmare right now. One about his girlfriend, Miranda, being kidnapped. It’s a pity you can’t sleep Clovis. You’d normally be able to make him your puppet in his current condition, but now—”

           Reyna wondered why Phobetor had let Clovis come so far before attacking. Now she knew: dramatic effect.

           Sherman Yang ran towards him.

           As much as she could, Reyna extended an adrenaline burst to the son of Hypnos. Clovis tried to drag Miranda to the line.

           But the athletic son of Ares cut him off with two yards to go. His bulky form partially obscured the plumper boy. Sherman unsheathed his sword. “Drop her, you monster!” he snarled. Reyna wondered what nightmare Phobetor was feeding him. She also wondered how often Sherman woke up his siblings with surprise sleepfights.

Clovis dug his heels into the ground, stumbling. “Sherman—it’s—it’s me. C-C-Clovis—” Reyna could feel the sob swelling inside Clovis. She willed him to keep it together. But he was exhausted, unarmed, and had a broken arm from when Phobetor tore through the field as a giant boar. Despite all the effort with her powers, she could feel his hopelessness creeping in.

           “Ah, little Clovis, are you ready for me to start the timer?” Phobetor flicked the piccolo to the side. It morphed into a hatchet.

           All the cheering went silent. Her troops knew what was about to happen.

She felt someone flinch against her back. With her focus on Clovis, she hadn’t realized someone had knelt by her, propping her up with their own body and warmth. She hadn’t realized how worn down she was until she tried to pull from them. A combination of rage, resentment, and reassurance washed through her when she caught Axel’s spicy scent. Some extra fury to support Clovis.

Clovis glanced over his shoulder, away from her and Sherman, at Phobetor. “You—you only ever have one hostage that you use as a timer,” he tried to reason, like he had all night.

           “Bigger audience. Closer to the climax,” Phobetor gestured towards the sky with his hatchet, where the Eastern darkness should soon have a hint of pink. “Bigger stakes. If you win this bout, little brother, you win it all!” Phobetor gave a bellied laugh. “I’ll even let you take a nap.”

           Sherman Yang shifted stances to prepare a lung.

           Phobetor raised his hatchet over Connor’s hand.

Reyna could sense some of her soldiers avert their gaze. Others shouted in anger. Michael Kahale threw one of the legion’s spears to land beside Clovis, so he was at least armed.

           “I’m going to cut off Matthias’ leg and Connor’s hand,” Phobetor explained like he had with the others. “I’m going to chop off Lou Ellen’s head, for being such a nuisance. If you can defeat Sherman before my little timers bleed to death, you can take all four campers—Miranda, Connor, Matthias, and Sherman—to safety.”  

           “Oh gods…” Kally whispered.

           “No--!” Pax shouted.

           “Timer on.”

           Phobetor brought down the hatchet.

 Footnotes:

[1] For any of you that know the song, I kept getting “strawberry fields forever” stuck in my head while writing this scene… it made capturing the tone REALLY difficult.

[2] Don’t you do it, Riordan.

[3] Mel wanted me to note through her betacomments: it’s okay Reyna. Axel’s sexiness and awkwardness would be too distracting for anyone.

[4] In my defense: if a demigod can charmspeak an inanimate metal sculpture into a sentient dragon, a god can definitely put a statue to sleep.

[5] Queue Overwerk’s Canon on the soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edOrKeBS-s8. I’m pretty sure the song’s opening starts with a flute solo, but I wanted Phobetor to have a piccolo… because piccolos.

[thebitchmint]

Ride Along 1.

“I swear if you drop or forget ONE more thing, I will LEAVE YOU SAMI I WILL LEAVE YOUR ADORABLE ASS on the highway for someone else!” Dyna’s violent whisper hissed through her teeth. Her patience had run out. It didn’t matter how freaking adorable he was either, she was ready to be in Michigan.  “You think I am adorable?” Sami peeked through the half open passenger door of their rental car, smirking at her. “JUST GO.” She hissed at him again, her anger deflated immediately. Dammit she thought to herself. They had stopped, one more time, so Sami could use the restroom and grab some snacks for the 100th stop of the 8 hour trip. “I swear on my life, I will leave him.” Heather mumbled under her breath. “Yah shure and I am daffy duck.” Neville’s thick accent rang out from the backseat. He had Distortia’s head in his lap, at least she was still sound asleep. “I am flying next time, fuck this.” Distortia didn’t move but apparently she was awake. Heather didn’t bother to turn around, making eye contact with Neville would probably just make her laugh out loud and she was too busy trying to stay mad at this point. “Actually I have to pee too so I will be right back.” Kylie groaned as Neville slipped out the back and ran inside the gas station. They were exhausted, three shows this week, a road trip to Detroit because there were NO flights with the snow, but they both knew they were just being brats. The car ride so far had been a blast. Heather rubbed her eyes, and yawned really big before Kylie settled back into the backseat, they were just tired. Just as the silence of the vehicle settled in Sami popped open the door scaring the living daylights out of both divas. “Holy shit.” Kylie screamed as Sami was oblivious to his dramatics, “YOU GUYS THEY HAVE SIPHON COFFEE.” he shouted into the car before pandering after all his goodies. Neville followed his friend, snacks in tow too. Heather just shook her head as she started up their rental and pulled out back on the road.  “Hey let me drive. I got you some reeses and Twizzlers and I know you are tired, I will drive for a few hours.” Sami was grinning at her as he held out a Twizzlers.  “We would be a lot further if you hadn’t felt the need to stop at the last 5 gas stations because they had coffee shops behind them.” Kylie mumbled from behind him but he ignored her. Sami’s focus was Heather he was almost taunting her, he knew she wasn’t buying it but he was going to do whatever it took to flirt and be cute. Heather was newly single and gorgeous. “Absolutely not, it will take even longer when you drive because you have no idea what speed actually means. Bribe or not.” Heather grabbed the dancing Twizzlers and popped one into her mouth. “Yeah you drive like a grandma, I swear on my life if you let him drive I’ll gut you both liver heads.” Neville smiled as he shoveled in a handful of almonds, he glanced at Kylie who was snacking on beef jerky. She was staring out the window lost in thought. Neville reached around the back of the seat and grabbed her pillow, placing it back on his lap and patting it a few times to let her know she could lay back down. Kylie didn’t argue, she twisted in the seat staring up at the ceiling, mouthful of Jerky. Neville wrapped his python arm around under hers, resting his hand on her belly and they both just listened to the comedy show up front and snacked. “I never get to drive.” Sami pouted. “Oh well.” Heather shrugged, “hey is that a monster drink?” “Yeah I know you don’t drink coffee this late and I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me drive so I got this to help hold you over.” Sami handed her the can of energy. “AW YES.” “How you drink cold drinks, in the cold I will never know.” Sami waved his hand at her and sipped his coffee. “I am from the south, its never cold or too cold for anything iced.” Heather giggled as she cracked open her can and took a long sip. She looked over at her red headed co-pilot as he dug into his plastic bag of snacks and wonder. He was so damn cute, and finally single. Sami was about to wet himself over his Siphon Coffee, when he realized she was still watching him. The two exchanged smiles as the SUV sped into the fading daylight. Ride Along was a hot new show about superstars on the road. The foursome laughed, and cried and exchanged stories. Heather and Kylie had wanted to be on it for awhile but with Erin out with injury, they were hoping to wait, when the producer suggested throwing the girls in with Zayn and Neville. Neville and Distortia were a ramshackle tag team thrown together at the last minute as Neville was running through the entire roster as the King of the cruiser weights, he needed a twisted sidekick to help him sell his new super villain attitude and the duo was so welcomed by the wwe universe the two just kept up their steam. Heather just had a school girl crush on the big hearted Sami and wanted to spend some time with him. So far the audience had gotten a lot of hysterical back stage stories, dramatic arm dancing from Sami, Heather and Kylie just roasting ignorant fans and a few co workers and everyone making an attempt at Neville’s accent, and his hilarious attempt at american ones. This ride along was in two parts due to the length of the road trip, and part two was a lot more flirting and sexual innuendos. The eye contact between Kylie and Neville in the back seat was buzzing with so much electricity the fans were making static shock jokes on twitter about it; not that they were new rumors either, everyone could see the chemistry in the ring. For weeks Distortia and Neville had been dancing a thin line between professional and flirting. The world was in love with it.

[itsasif007-blog]

10 Classical Musicians and Icons who lived like modern rock legends

New Post has been published on http://liststories.com/10-classical-musicians-and-icons-who-lived-like-modern-rock-legends-2/

10 Classical Musicians and Icons who lived like modern rock legends

We generally imagine famous icons of classical music to be stuffy figures whose personal lives couldn’t hold a torch to the exploits of the modern-day gods created by the rock and roll revolution.

Reading the biographies of the great luminaries in classical music will tend to convince you otherwise. In their day, many of these people evoked adoration and reverence to levels never seen before, and sank to depths just as low. Whatever their stories were, there are plenty of parallels between the great innovators of the classical era and the more recent past in music. Below are ten of the most colorful personalities among classical music icons.

10. Johann Sebastian Bach (1765-1850) rose to acclaim through coffee house gigging

Along with Mozart and Beethoven, Bach is one of the three famous classical musicians that every school kid knows for good reason: No artist has produced more pieces (i.e. “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, “Brandenburg Concerto No. 3”,  “Air on G String”) that are instantly recognizable today. Most people know Bach was employed by a church. More specifically, he was on the payroll of Leipzig Town Hall for sacred and ceremonial occasions. “The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul,” he once said.

But he really let loose at the local coffee shop known as Zimmermannsche Kaffeehaus, or Café Zimmermann. You wouldn’t think that in 1723, but they weren’t the places you see today with gentrified hipsters sporting non-prescription glasses, working on their liberal arts thesis all day. But in fact, it was way more shady: Kind of like a men-only opium den. There also happened to be violas and bassoons and harpsichords lying around in case any double woodwind players and strings wanted to get in on a jam session. He would charge admission and reap the profits with the cafe manager. He even wrote a cantata to honor his favorite coffee shop owner.

9. Jenny Lind (1820-1887) was the first international diva and went solo

Jenny Lind was a Swedish diva who was known as “Swedish Nightengale” when she sold out concerts at Europe and had Queen Victoria throwing flowers at her feet. She was brought over to America in 1850 by none other than circus magnate PT Barnum. He had never even heard her voice but gambled on her reputation and built it up even more through a series of press releases to keep the hype alive.

When her steamship arrived in New York, a large enough mob of people gathered to greet her, that the New York Tribune treated her welcoming as a public safety issue. In addition, 20,000 mobbed her hotel room on top of of 30,000 people who attended her first concert, with riots taking place in the aisles. Tickets were so in demand that Barnum sold seats to her concert via auction.

After 9 months and 93 sold-out concerts, Lind decided to take her act solo. She got paid the 2015 equivalent of $9.96 million but Barnum took home $14.2 million from the tour. Lind also grew tired of the constant publicity grabs. “I am not a horse,” she famously said, and struck out on her own. Barnum assumed she’d go back to Europe but for a while she toured the U.S. with her piano accompanist (whom she eventually married) and gave him quite a bit of competition.

8. Max Strakosch (1835-1892) was the first hustler agent

A Czech pianist with an inflated resume, Strakosch was one of the very first prominent professional operators who built a niche in New York City’s newly-formed classical scene in the mid-19th century.

Strakosch persevered through hard work and a keen eye for talent to land great acts and connect them to a public that was newly appreciative of classical music. And by that, we mean he met a prominent tenor when emigrating from Austria-Hungary to New York, and got hitched to his 12-year-old daughter Amelia. When it turned out that Amelia wasn’t as proficient a Soprano as he hoped, Strakosch figured that the genetic odds had to favor someone and went with her younger sister, Adelina Patti instead. Strakosch put Adelina Patti on a three-hundred stop concert tour over five years and retired her for puberty to artificially increase demand for when she’d make a comeback.

Like many agents today, Stakosch resorted to undercutting his talent. He registered Patti’s fee at $100 a night but paid her and her family considerably less. He was also sued for breach of contract and his stable of singers was paid so little that one of them held his assistants hostage with a knife to his throat in retaliation. In the end, Patti went off on a European tour with Max’s brother (and rival) Maurice taking over as her manager, but Max was still responsible for creating the opera scene in New York City.

7. Franz Lizst (1811-1886) evoked enough hysteria to coin a definition…

Lizst evoked such hysteria that eventually gave credence to a dictionary definitions meaning “A mental derangement characterized by hallucinations or vehement passion or desire.” Russian critic Vladimir Stasov wrote “We had never heard anything like it before, never been confronted by such a passionate, demoniac genius” Women came tearing at his hair and scrabbling for cigar butts and secreting them between their heaving breasts.”

But the funny thing is that Lizstomania was a ruse. While he had an uncanny ability to improvise melodies from audience sugggestions and was given lessons by Antonio Salieri for free based on potential alone, he had been giving concerts for 20 years before the swoonings and mobbings had begun.

6. …and Gaetano Belloni (1810-1887) created the hype

In 1841, Lizst hired a publicist named Gaetano Belloni and it was in 1842 that Lizstomania really took off.

Sadly, much of the details of Belloni’s life is lost to history. He never kept a diary or wrote memoirs. But, it is known that in relationship to Lizst’s career, Belloni took the Hungarian pianist from respected  musician to superstar.

Belloni did this by sending ahead to the local press stories of the hysteria aroused by previous engagements.

It turned out that extremely good publicity simply bred extremely good publicity. By the time Liszt turned up in an elaborate carriage, the town would be hysterical in anticipation. Belloni also hired old-fashioned claqueurs to fake ecstatic applause at Liszt’s concerts.

5. Robert Schumann (1810-1856) was a hopeless romantic who descended into madness

Robert Schumann’s music was often equated to lyric poetry and he was considered the most romantic of the composers of the Romantic Era. It’s no wonder then that the German composer was so heavily motivated by romance. At the age of 17, Schumann met a young piano prodigy named Clara Wieck and was so moved that he decided to discontinue his law studies to pursue music. He eventually fell in love with her and when neither family approved, they carried on an affair for years through music. Schumann would write a song for her on sheet music and Clara would play it. Eventually the two would elope.

The other notable thing about Schumann is that he was, by all standards, pretty crazy. He suffered from a bipolar disorder that turned out to be both a blessing and a curse as he was able to compose enormous amounts of music during manic periods. At the same time, his illness manifested itself into full-blown schizophrenia as he approached his 40s, and he got fired at the age of 43 from his municipal position with Dusseldorf (though a music school is still named after him). A year later, he reported shrieking cosmic voices in his head drove him to throw himself into the Rhine in February (not the first person to do that: See entry #3).

Upon being rescued, he and Clara decided he should be placed in a sanitarium, where he lived out the last two years of his life. Interestingly enough, one of the things that kept him sane during his last few years was the project of mentoring another young prodigy, who became quite famous in his own right.

4. The music of Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) was so ahead of its time, it incited riots

Igor Stravinsky was an iconoclast who was one of the few composers to live into the age of rock and roll. As such, it’s not surprising that he picked up a few things along the way being the first to have percusion in his symphonies that appropriated what you’d hear on a drum set.

It also follows that the Russian piano player and composer was not appreciated in his time. The Firebird Ballet wove two Russian folk myths together into a modern opera that catapulted to stardom when it premiered in 1910. But his ambition got the better of him (or at least his audience) when he broke all the rules a couple operas later with “The Rite of Spring.” The ballet introduced rhythms and dissonances never before heard before and it’s been reported that the audience rioted in the concert hall.

While a BBC article has cast doubt on the extent of the riot it is historically established that the police were called and some forty people were arrested. Phil Goulding notes that the infamous 1913 concert “made Stravinsky the enfant terrible of music, the shock-you genius.” “Rite of Spring” was named by Time Magazine as the definitive work of the 20th Century in their 1999 issue.

3. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) was a tortured artist of extreme proportions

Tchaikovsky was cornerstone of classical music’s romantic era and is often cited as the greatest composer and orchestrator Russia has ever produced.

But Tchaikovsky did not have an easy life. For one, he was a homosexual living in a country that has historically had an unusually strong aversion to it. Even musicologists denied his homosexuality during the Soviet era. Struggling with societal pressures to repress himself, he married a young music student named Antonina Milyukova. The marriage was a catastrophe, with Tchaikovsky abandoning his wife within weeks of the wedding. During a nervous breakdown, he unsuccessfully attempted to commit suicide by jumping into the icy waters of the River Neva naked, and eventually fled abroad.

Beyond that, Tchaikovsky had a history of nervous breakdowns and paranoia. He became so convinced that his head would roll off his body, he held his hand on his head when he was conducting. When he was being decorated by the Tsar on another occasion, he had to drug himself heavily just to get through the ceremony.

2. Niccolo Paganani (1782-1840) was a wildly successful solo artist believed to be the devil

Niccolo Paganani was an extraordinary violinist who was one of the first instrumentalists to successfully launch a multi-national concert tour. When he played during the 1832 cholera epidemic, one source said “all pain and sadness was suspended; one forgot death and the fear that is worse than death.” Snuff boxes, billiard canes and restaurants all over Europe were named after him, and newspapers reported daily on his touring progress.

However, his virtuoistic ability and sulken appearance led to rumors that he was the devil. There was even a rumor that the fourth string of his violin was made from the intestine of a dead mistress. In reality, modern historians speculate that he had a genetic abnormality. Because people hadn’t heard of genetics back then, he simply carried around a certificate from his mother proving his mortal origins but that didn’t convince the Bishop of Nice, who denied him a Christian burial on grounds of proven atheism and demonism.

1. Ludwig van Beethoven  (1770-1827) was the maddest genius of them all

It could be argued that no one has reshaped classical music more than Beethoven. “Beethoven stands at the pinnacle of development of the history of music,” one scholarly journal writes. “He absorbed the different trends of thought of the 18th Century and bought them to completion.”

But with Beethoven’s enormous talent came an enormous ego. He was known to tangle with virtually every landlord, patron and girlfriend he ever had, and his mentor Joseph Haydn found him impossible at times (though the two eventually became friends again). In his late 20s, Beethoven started losing his hearing, which catapulted him to new levels of depression and madness. In his quest to maintain his quality of work, Beethoven poured himself into his music so much that he rarely groomed himself or maintained order in his apartment. When friends and colleagues came to visit, they reported his rooms were filled with stacks of manuscripts no one was allowed to touch, he was often naked or in his underwear, and he was often unaware that anyone else was in the room.

Unlike many other classical music icons, Beethoven was lucky in that he lived in a time and place  (Vienna) in which he could make a good living and gain the esteem of his contemporaries. When Beethoven died at the age of 57, a crowd of 20,000 lined the streets of his funeral procession in  in appreciation with nine priests presiding over the service.

[citizenscreen]

Special guest post by Jeff Lundenberger @jlundenberger

I Found It at the Drive-In

My host, Aurora, recently shared a piece on this blog celebrating the 84th anniversary of the birth of the drive-in. In it, she mentioned a history.com statistic that there are less than 500 functioning drive-in theatres in the U.S. today. This bit of information sent me directly to the website of the Lynn Drive-In in Strasburg, Ohio, the local drive-in of my youth, and I was relieved to discover that it is still open. The website proudly proclaims its status as “Ohio’s Oldest Drive-In Theatre Since 1937.” It now has two screens – I think a summertime trip to Ohio for an investigation into that development is in order – both with double features every night of the week. “Come as you are in the Family Car,” the home page invites, and I’m happy for the Ohio families that are still able to patronize this fading American institution. Hopefully they are creating future memories like the fond, but dim, memories I have of going to the movies in the twilight outdoors of my earlier days.

How the West Was Won might have been the first movie I saw at the drive-in. It was released in February of 1963 and I probably saw it that summer. I have a distinct memory of seeing the film, but my parents don’t remember any of it, or any of the other films I recall seeing with them. That was the only time I’ve seen How the West Was Won from start to finish, at that trip to the drive-in, whatever year it was. At least I assume I saw the whole thing. I have little memory of the actual movie. I’ve seen parts of it since, catching it randomly on TCM now and then, and there are sparks of recognition, like waking in the morning and trying to piece together a hazy dream. The only thing I’m sure of is the song A Home in the Meadow, sung by Debbie Reynolds in the film. I was pleasantly haunted by that tune for days afterward. It seemed like a song I had known since before I was born. Later, I was happy, if a bit confused, when the same tune turned up with different words in the Christmas Carol What Child is This?

My aunt, uncle and six cousins accompanied us to at least one movie – this might have been it. I remember the two station wagons, Ford Country Sedans, parked side by side, both filled to the brim with children making faces at one another through steamy windows. This wasn’t the only outing we had with my mother’s sister and her family. Somewhere there is a picture of us at the Cleveland Zoo, looking more like a class trip than two families on a local vacation.

We weren’t poor, but with so many of us mom economized by popping batches of corn that filled a big brown grocery store bag, the outside speckled with patches of grease. There was pop (aka soda) in a cooler, but how I longed to get something from the concession stand (goaded, no doubt, by the on-screen prodding of the preview) that tempted from the little building that also housed the film projector. We were only permitted to go there to use the restroom, accompanied, of course, by a parent. I stared down the rows of candy as I waited for my mom and sisters to finish their business – surely mom would relent and buy me something. We returned to the car empty-handed.

As I look up the release dates for other films I saw as a child, I see that 1964 must have been a big year for me and the movies. I don’t remember going to see Mary Poppins, at the drive-in or otherwise, but I received the soundtrack record for my birthday, and I do remember being completely mystified by the Sister Suffragette scene and song. I remember standing in line outside a theatre for A Hard Days Night, taken there by a friend’s mother. It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World was released in November, 1963, and so it must have been the summer of 1964 when my uncle, as a birthday gift, took two cousins and myself to see it. The three of us were all born in the same year, one each in June, July and August. I was the oldest of the bunch, if only by a matter of weeks, and I wasn’t happy that I had to sit in the back seat. Chalk it up to the early diva in me.

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, too, is a movie I’ve seen in its entirety only as a child and, again, my few memories of seeing it then are interwoven with the several times I’ve seen parts of it over the years since. I do remember Jimmy Durante, before dying on the side of the road, telling a group of people about some money buried underneath a big W. I remember Phil Silvers in a convertible in a river. I remember the palm trees that create the big W, men atop impossibly tall fire truck ladders, and Ethel Merman slipping on a banana peel. I think.

  Who would take their eight year old child (and his younger siblings) to see Alfred Hitchcock’s Marnie? Take a guess. My parents have never been review-readers and I’m sure they must have thought it was just another Hitchcock suspense film with an ambiguous ending. Were they surprised when they discovered that the film included sexual repression and violence? I asked – they don’t remember. I remember a yellow purse, black hair, the entire screen turning red, and a little girl killing a man with a poker under very peculiar circumstances. Like Marnie Edgar, I’ve had hidden memories jogged to life, not by the hysterics of my mother but by later viewings of this film. Fortunately, my hidden memories don’t carry with them a debilitating psychosis. Or do they? I admit, I have something of an obsession with Sir Alfred and his films. I blame – and thank – mom and dad.

I saw Woman of Straw at the drive-in. It, too, was released in 1964 and I’m guessing it was the first film of a double feature with Marnie. It would make sense, since both star Sean Connery. An online plot synopsis mentions Ralph Richardson in a wheelchair, and that revived my only recollection of that film: a wheelchair.

I think my parents took us to the drive-in to see the animated Disney version of The Jungle Book in 1967 and The Odd Couple in 1968. Funny, my memories of those two more recent films are less certain than those of the earlier ones. I watched The Odd Couple a few months ago and it provoked those recognizable flashes of familiarity. That must have been when I saw the trailer for Rosemary’s Baby, which left more of an impression than the feature. Mom answered with a firm “no” when I asked if we could return to see it. That also could have been the night we took to the open air to watch a film. It was a balmy summer night and we put a blanket on the hump of ground that raised the car to an optimum viewing angle. It was perfect for an outdoor sofa and it was bliss, watching a movie under the stars while the sounds from the tinny speakers echoed across the field.

The Ray Harryhausen films The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974) and Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), their thin stories made palatable by their charming, almost tactile stop-motion special effects, were perfect drive-in material. I saw both of them in the years of their release, with two different friends. My Golden friend shocked me when he took apart the speaker and unhooked its wires, a much easier operation than I would have guessed, making of it a bulky, metal souvenir. I was sure we were going to be arrested and couldn’t relax until we had left the lot and were on our way home. Tiger was much less stressful.

A double feature of Friday the 13th Part 2 and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre drew two friends and myself to an unfamiliar Ohio drive-in one summer night in 1981. This time out I was content sitting in the back seat, it being a hot and humid night. We laughed and talked throughout Friday – it didn’t take us long to figure out that most of the high and horny teens were going to get it, one way or another. Chainsaw was another story. Before the credits had finished I had crawled into the front seat. There we were, three sweaty, screaming adults, car windows closed because everyone knows that chainsaws can’t penetrate glass. It might be the most disturbing movie I’ve ever seen. Part of me would like to see it again, to see if it still as terrifying as I remember. Most of me says just let sleeping Leatherfaces lie.

I went to the Lynn for a XXX double feature with a couple of friends one year. Late at night, on weekends, cars lined up for a mile or so down the road for the after midnight porn. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

I saw Blade Runner, in 1982, at yet another local Ohio drive-in. I loved the film and its evocation of a film noir future, and this was my second time seeing it. My cousin took us in his pickup truck, me and another cousin who he was dating… from the opposite side of my family. Ohio isn’t THAT bad. How was I to know that this would be my last trip to the drive-in? We enjoyed the movie, I visited the concession stand several times for snacks, he drove us home, and that was that.

Home and theatre collide at the drive-in. We face the big screen, surrounded by others, the extent of the public experience limited to the family and friends seated with us in the safety of our vehicular capsules, a communal isolation. It’s the best of both worlds. The images are larger than life. You can trek to the concession stand for snacks – or bring your own. The kids can wear pajamas. I guess you can too, if your sartorial concerns are less stringent than mine. And, if you have to shush someone, take comfort in the fact that you’ll be shushing someone you know. I had great fun at the drive-in and would happily go again if there were one nearby. Not for a film I was genuinely interested in, mind you. As much as I enjoyed the experience, it’s not the ideal atmosphere for watching a film with serious intent. But I would have appreciated Alien: Covenant, which I saw recently at the mall, much more if I had seen it with that spoonful of sugar that is the lowered expectation of the drive-in.

The magical appeal of that union of movie and night persists. A local hotel here in Asbury Park is now showing open-air movies on the roof, the rescued sign from Asbury’s old Baronet Theatre glowing proudly above the screen, and the last few summers have featured movies on the beach (Jaws being a big hit). Who knows? Maybe the architects who created movie palaces with ceilings of sky, stars and drifting clouds were anticipating a theatrical future that included the classic drive-in.

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About the author: Jeff Lundenberger is an avid classic film fan, was a TCMFF Social Producer and is active across social media sharing his love of movies. You can follow Jeff on Twitter and Instagram @jlundenberger.

I Found It at the Drive-In Special guest post by Jeff Lundenberger @jlundenberger I Found It at the Drive-In My host, Aurora, recently shared a piece on this blog celebrating the 84th anniversary of the…